


The Situation

by WauryD



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Journalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9218492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WauryD/pseuds/WauryD
Summary: In an attempt to find evidence for her investigation against the Casterly corporation, Brienne finds an unexpected - and partly unwelcome -  ally. It turns a bit more complicated when their interactions get mistaken for something else, and she is pushed into a situation she could never have predicted.Mild occasional swearing. Short, mild non-con in the first chapter. Mentions of incest. Awkwardly depicted sex in the last chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this since July, on and off, writing other things in between and almost giving up on this one. But! I didn't, and at this point I'm kinda done with it, imperfect as it is. I know that I focus a bit too much on Jaime and Brienne, not enough on descriptions or on other characters, but at this point I either put it out there or just stop working on it, so :D
> 
> Disclaimer: I know relatively little of commercial empires and journalism, so I'm just winging it :D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected meeting.

The lock clicked. Brienne thought her thundering heart might be heard all the way to the gathering downstairs, as the brass handle turned under the careful weight of her hand. She slipped her tall frame into the dark office quietly, sliding the heavy door shut behind her.

Switching on the light, she surveyed the room, trying to decide quickly where to search. She was now familiar with the luxurious tastes displayed in the Lannister mansion: expensive furniture, ceiling-high bookcases filled with beautiful tomes, crimson draperies embroidered with golden thread... Had she not been in a hurry to forget the potential consequences of her location, she might have been intimidated. There was no time. While the publication she represented, the Northern Crow, had been granted an invitation to the spring Joanna Lannister Foundation benefit, the guests had been warned to keep to the ground floor. Picking the lock of Tywin Lannister’s office on the first floor was not likely to end well.

And yet, there she was, looking for documents she suspected would not even be there. She might very well leave empty-handed, or worse, handcuffed.

The stacked papers on the massive oak desk revealed nothing. The filing cabinets were locked, and while tempting, she knew that the bookshelves were not likely to yield results in a timely manner.

A third drawer from the desk was proving disappointing when a light cough made her heart stop.

“I’m pretty certain that you’re not supposed to be in here.”

Jumping to her feet clumsily she discovered, much to her horror, the tall, broad figure of Jaime Lannister by the door, now ajar. Brienne imagined that he must be a striking sight at any given moment, but the sharp contrast of his fully black tuxedo with his gelled, golden hair was arresting. His posture and his nonchalant grin exuded confidence, and enough condescension to provoke an instant dislike for him in her.

That she was going to have to hide if she wanted to save her skin.

“I’m sorry, I was just - I was looking for - “ She made her way towards the exit, head down, confounding herself in apologies, trying not to look as though she was fleeing as she did exactly that. A few steps more and she would have made it, but the heir moved in her path, his smirk and scent suddenly far too close for comfort. She backed as he advanced a few steps.

“I’d say we have about thirty seconds before security comes in here.”

Despite the inconvenient, painful shoes and the stupidly ill-fitted, mid-length black dress she wore, she would probably be able to push him aside by surprise and perhaps, with a silly amount of chance, make her way off the property without getting arrested. She briefly wondered if they had hounds. Perhaps just the one.

Her deliberations were short, but quickly interrupted. “If you tell me what you were looking for, I’ll get you out of this...  _ situation _ .”

Could it be anything else than a trap, with a grin like that on his face? Lure her to reveal her objective to more easily prove her guilt? Jaime Lannister had nothing to gain in helping someone that was not likely to wish his father good fortune. And by extension, his inheritance.

Then again... she’d done her research. Early entry in the military, brilliant career thanks to skills, charm, and solid connections. Before long, he was serving directly under General Aerys Targaryen, whose questionably harsh behaviour had raised many concerns in the public at the time.

Regardless of the man’s reputation, when he had died in the only presence of the eldest Lannister son ten years prior, the previous praise for Jaime’s looks, prowess, and loyalty had turned sour, into vanity and conspiracy. Accusations had seemingly come up empty, however, as no charges came of them. Was there anything else to expect for the heir of one of the largest commercial empire on the continent? It had faded, over time, but his name was still associated with betrayal.

Then two years ago, mercenaries who were rumoured to have had ties to General Targaryen had managed to corner him, and Jaime had come out of it almost missing a hand, sectioned nearly entirely. Quick response and the best surgeons money could buy had saved it, but he’d lost a good deal of dexterity. The men had been swiftly, discreetly dealt with, and the story hushed up as much as possible, but people had been talking. Never to his face, but still.

Brienne’s eyes involuntarily slid to his right hand as she remembered the coverage of his convalescence, shooting back up to his face the moment she caught herself. He couldn’t have missed it, but gave no indication either way, simply staring at her with his annoying smile, waiting for an answer.

“Deal?”

Footsteps could be heard from the hallway, along with angry voices. There was little time to think or consider whether Jaime Lannister owed any more loyalty to his father than he had his mentor. It would have to be a leap of faith. She sighed. “Deal.”

His grin suddenly looked victorious as he advanced on her, forcing her backwards to the desk, a firm hand on her waist. He barely had the courtesy to breathe “Play along” before he somehow hoisted her on the desk, pushing himself against her, between her legs, as his lips made for the soft spot in the crook of her neck. The first reflex that manifested itself had her jolt her shoulder up, knocking him on the jaw. He hissed angrily at her. “I said  _ play along _ , wench!”

Taking some serious satisfaction in the knowledge that his smile would have disappeared, even if she couldn’t see it, Brienne focused on that small silver lining as her body tensed from the hand sliding alongside her thigh, under her dress. She hated the plan with rage, but she had to trust that it would work. And that he actually intended it to work. 

It took far too long for security to find them, she thought, as a ridiculously broad, dark-haired man entered the room, others waiting just outside in the hallway. While her position allowed her to see them, she took the silly risk of letting Jaime decide where this would go. When he didn't appear to react to the forceful cough the guard produced, however, she took the opportunity to push him away briskly, appearing horrified at having been caught. She had a glimpse of a familiar grin, before he composed his expression into an annoyed, whiny frown.

He turn to the men in a drunkenly flourished move as she straightened her dress. “ _ What? _ ”

If they were surprised to see their boss’s son, they didn't show it. “Ser, your father has instructed us not to let guests outside of the hosting area.”

It was a firm answer, for someone who would normally be a subordinate. Brienne couldn’t see her accomplice’s face, but a shiver of defiance seemed to run through him as he snorted.

“Well I couldn’t very well get that...  _ cozy _ with the lady in the hosting area, could I?”

The men appeared strangely unmoved by the altercation. Tywin Lannister must be even more terrifying than she’d previously thought.

“I’m going to have to ask you to take this elsewhere, ser. Lord Lannister had very specific directives.”

After a few tense seconds, Jaime let out another annoyed sigh. “ _ Fine! _ ” Briefly turning back to her, his green eyes caught hers for a second before he seized her wrist and pulled her along. “You’ll be responsible for the tabloids,” he warned the guard.

Brienne kept her flushed face down as they exited the office, relishing in the fresh air brought by the brisk pace they took down the stairs, her skin still burning from his hands and lips on her. 

They settled well away from the other guests, far enough to insure a private discussion. The moment they stopped, she slapped him. Hard. He hardly seemed surprised - vaguely amused, even, as he massaged his reddening cheek and jaw. He smiled pleasantly for the curious people whose attention had turned to the sound of her hand colliding with his face, and she noted with satisfaction that it was the same side she’d previously hit with her shoulder.

“It  _ worked _ , didn’t it?”

She had played the bashful maiden for the duration of the previous incident, but now that they were clear, Brienne stood tall. While she wasn’t wearing significant heels, she didn’t need them to look down to the man before her, and her shoulders were practically as broad as his. Her forms had never really evoked femininity, but the strength that emanated from her frame conferred her advantages in other ways, that she embraced fully.

Not a small man himself, Jaime seemed to be entertained by the determined stance she now presented. “Believe me, you got the better end of the deal. You’re pretty damn heavy,” he piped. “ _ Now now _ ,” he added when she showed signs of wanting to hit him again, raising his hands, “I fulfilled my end of the deal. Now yours.”

Perhaps it would have been safer to make up a story on the spot, but lies had never come to her easily. He would see through it if she tried, she knew, and possibly call security back. He still might do it if she told the truth - he would have reason to.

But he was right. They’d made a deal. She had to honour it. If anything, _ that _ meant something to  _ her _ .

“I’m investigating illicit dealings between the Casterly corporation and the border officers at the Twins. What I’ve found so far is more solid than rumours, but not concrete enough to be... acted on. I need evidence.”

Jaime observed her for a moment, without reply. His green eyes bore into the blue waters of hers, and though an awkward stare, she refused to back down. Was he trying to decide whether she was telling the truth, or if security should indeed throw her out?

He finally gave a cocky smile. "Well, that sounds like a lot of fun."

She squinted, unsure of his actual feelings on the matter. She could only offer a dry, sarcastic reply in return. "It's fantastic."

“Government?”

Brienne hesitated. It would have been safer for her to be acting in an official capacity, but she would easily be found out if she lied. The guest list would not. “Journalist.”

A chuckle, his gaze never faltering. Then after a few seconds, "What do you need?"

It sounded oddly as though he was offering help, but that made no sense. The deals she was investigating were not big enough to topple his family’s company, but they could nonetheless instill distrust in investors if they came to light. As a Lannister, there was little incentive for him to participate in such treason. 

Perhaps  _ this _ Lannister just cared as little for the reputation of his family's business as he did for his own.

“Records. Money exchange, written agreements that I doubt exist. Traces of illegal transactions, although they’ll be difficult to point as such. The context will make them illicit, not necessarily their nature.”

The smile had not entirely faded, a ghost of it on his lips still. "Timeframe?"

_ Was _ he offering help?

“The past two years, mostly. It might go further back, but there are more chances of finding something concrete in more recent dealings, and to have authorities act on them.”

He offered a quiet “Hmm” in response, before his eyes shifted to someone behind her. The anticipation of being seized and dragged away suddenly took her, as she realized that security might have returned. Instead, Jaime took a step towards her, whispering in her ear, “Golden Crown Café, Sunday afternoon. Around four. Don't be late, wench,” before planting a scratchy kiss on her cheek. He finally walked away, along with the insistent cologne he wore, and Brienne waited several moments before turning around, resisting the urge to wipe her skin.

A large, exuberant man was being led away towards the garden under Jaime’s firm guidance.  _ One of the Baratheons _ , she thought. A prominent political family, one of which had wed Jaime’s twin sister, Cersei.  _ The Lannisters really have the best connections. _

If he was to help her in any way, she was going to have to seriously question his motives. What did he have to gain from this? Was he aiming to take control of the company? If his father was disgraced, would the board of directors look to him as a replacement? He was not deeply involved in its administration, as far as she knew. Did he have interests elsewhere that would profit from Casterly being diminished?

She watched him disappear in the darkness, wondering what kind of trouble she had walked into. A quick glance around, and she headed off. Better not linger and give an opportunity for security to corner her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An expected meeting with unexpected results.

“You’re  _ bored _ ?”

Jaime had not had the courtesy to follow his own directive, showing up at the Golden Crown nearly forty-five minutes late. With coffee from another chain, no less, which got them angry glares from the baristas. Until one of them recognized the cocky smile he gave them, and they instead giggled behind the counter.

He’d set down his cup and tried to hand her a flash drive from the inner pocket of his leather jacket, but she’d told him to sit. “Do I look like a puppy?” With the floppy hair he used to have, he kind of did. It was cropped much shorter these days.

“Well you  _ did  _ just play fetch.”

Brienne had regretted it the moment it left her lips, but she couldn’t help it. His presence annoyed her, and the slap she’d given him two evenings prior had not quenched her need to hurt him in retribution for basically molesting her. Even if it had saved her from a lot of trouble, it was still a detestable memory.

Luckily for her, Jaime had found the quip entertaining, pulling back a chair across from her. She’d asked where the documents had come from, how he’d gotten to them. He’d been deliberately vague, arguing that as a journalist, she didn’t need to make sure her sources were acting...  _ legally _ . And that she could leave his name out of her investigation, too.

“Why are you doing this? What do you get out of it?”

She had mulled the question over since she’d gotten home from the benefit, without arriving to any solid conclusion. It bothered her. She didn’t like playing into someone’s agenda, especially if it was one she was not privy to. That usually backfired.

“Honestly? I’m just bored.”

She wanted to kick him in the shins under the table.  _ Bored _ ? Playing with so many high stakes, so much money, his family, and he was  _ bored _ ?

Her anger nearly prevented her from catching the hints indicating that Jaime wasn’t being truthful. Was that how one did it, telling outrageous lies to confound people and get away with it? He wasn’t looking her in the eye, though he had previously not been shy about it, shifting in his seat as he talked, then pushing the flash drive to her as if to end the conversation. She stared at him. He hid most of his face behind his cup.

“I’m not taking this drive until you come clean.”

He laughed. “You’re the one who asked for this! If you don’t take it, you’re the one who-”

“Me completing this investigation provides you with something you want enough to risk being hung for a traitor by your family’s empire. Spill it.”

_ Now _ he locked eyes with her. As uneasy as it made her feel, she still preferred it to knowing he was skirting around the truth. He sighed, setting down his cup.

“My father has the very conservative notion that as the primary male heir to the Lannister line, it is now time that I should marry and prepare to take over the family business. None of which appeals to me right now, especially not forced down my throat. Whatever you’re looking into is... merely going to annoy him, but it’s a good enough distraction to give me time to find an alternative. Besides,” Jaime added when she looked unconvinced, “I’m not a fan of the Freys, or of corruption in general.”

Considering the Targaryen affair, Brienne was dubious about that last bit. But great. Overall that made her a distraction for a rich pretty boy to enjoy freedom away from the responsibilities he had been lucky to avoid for so long. Wasn’t he turning thirty-five in a few months? Still, it was better than boredom. There was still something underneath, a complexity of that truth he’d given her, but it would have to do for now. She took the drive. She’d have to make sure it wasn’t a trap, but if the documents were half as promising as she hoped, it would be a considerable surge forward in her research.

She stood up to leave, reluctantly remembering that regardless of her personal feelings for the man, she still had to be grateful. “Thank you.”

“You’re damn right,  _ wench _ .”

Her empty coffee cup felt like disappointment as she dropped it in the trash on her way out. Had it not been finished for so long, it would have looked fantastic on his overpriced white shirt.

~*~

The files turned out to be not quite what she had wished for, but  _ holy shit _ were they opening a whole new avenue in her case. It implicated a lot of highborn families into a wide net of petty favours, unethical decisions and downright corruption. Little was solid, legally-binding evidence, but what was not spelled out was easily figured out from the documents she now had in her possession.

Brienne had been impressed upon safely opening the drive: everything was neatly organized in folders by document type, and by date. Except for that text file loitering on its root, titled “Wench.txt”. It contained little: “Call me ;)” and a mobile phone number.

There was an ethical decision to be made: should she tell Jaime what he had given her and explain the ramifications of it being exposed? Subject the release of her investigation to his judgement, if he’d accidentally given her more than he meant? Could she simply never mention it to him, and if confronted about the far-more-dire-than-planned consequences, pretend it simply was where her research had taken her? If she told him but refused to hold off publishing her results, would he become a threat?

This was her first significant story. Brienne had gone into journalism to help further the truth, and help right wrongs, but her moral code had always trumped her ambitions if it ever came down to it. She did help, not always as much as she’d wished, but that’s how the world worked and she would have to get used to it. Grey areas had never been her forte.

She sighed at a fourth ring, figuring that he might not answer an unknown number. A quick look at the clock revealed that it was now technically Monday morning, 1:31AM. A voicemail would have to do.

A sleepy, happy voice came up. “Wench!”

Jaime couldn’t see it, but he’d provoked an eyeroll powerful enough to move mountains. “I have a name, Lann- “

He piped up cheerfully at that. “I know! Brienne Tarth. Sorry we didn’t introduce one another before. I looked you up on the guest list. The Crow, huh? Kinda small-time for what you’re trying to pull.”

Perfect. Let’s dive right into it.

“Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I don’t think you realize what you’ve given me.”

She heard a yawn. “I do.” Silence followed, and Brienne was unsure of what she could say. Detail the predicted consequences? Just say, “okay, bye” and do whatever she wanted with the info, even if the manchild on the other end of the line might not actually understand what he’d done?

“Wench, I grew up in this,” he continued while she tried to reach a decision, “if I’m telling you that I know what I’ve given you, believe me, I  _ know _ .”

That was a tone she had not yet heard from him: determined and serious. He’d been aloof during their previous encounters, and considering it sounded like she’d just woken him, it felt odd to hear him so focused. 

She could morally work with his answer. “...okay, then.”

The audible smirk came back. “It was pretty nice of you to try to warn me though. That’s touching. Were you worried about me?”

Mocking her again. Nothing she wasn’t used to. “I’m worried about me. You’re a potential liability. If you freak out - “

Laughter drowned the rest of her sentence. “Me? You- you realize what I just did right? Against my own - ”

She stopped him. “Yes, and if you fall, you still have your two or ten trust funds of a couple millions for whatever legal fees you encounter, if any. Real people don’t have that. So yeah, I’m worried about  _ me _ .”

Her tirade was met with silence, to the point where Brienne thought he might have hung up already. When a couple of seconds passed without a dial tone, she added, “So. Goodnight. Thank you for the material.” and ended the call. 

Stretching, trying to work out her frustration, she ended up putting all her papers away, her laptop into sleep mode, and headed for a shower. Perhaps the heat would help.

On the other end of the now dead line, Jaime placed his phone back on the night stand, flopping down wearily on his pillow. He knew she was trying to do the right thing, but she was just so damn naive. 

He’d been annoyed to discover how deep the lies ran in the network his father had woven around Casterly, a cancer he was realizing was poisoning the very structure of the company. He would not have been able to confront Tywin about it, but perhaps the idealistic journalist could do some good. Sighing, he tried to brush moral questions aside, falling back into an uneasy sleep.

~*~

While the newfound information was indeed pushing Brienne’s investigation forward significantly, it also suddenly broadened the scope of it. This was perhaps not of the caliber of the Northern Crow anymore, and she knew she'd have to reflect on the consequences of it. It had to fall into the right hands, and through the right channels.

She’d first have to deal with the minor detail of updating her boss on the situation. She’d only vaguely mentioned the subject of her investigation to Catelyn Stark three weeks prior, as potential corruption at the Twins, without a word on the other end of the dealings. Lady Stark had given her a green light at the time, but then her husband had been promoted, and in the flurry of changes, Brienne had... forgotten to tell her more of her work.

It would be unprofessional to seek a larger publication’s support without informing her current employer, especially since Catelyn had taken her under her wing only a year prior, when she’d moved to King’s Landing from the Stormlands shortly after her twenty second birthday. While she knew she had the skills to do great work, most of her interviews had ended with barely covert sneering at her looks. Catelyn had known the contents of her portfolio by the time they had met, and looked directly at her while they discussed, listening intently. Brienne had found the type of leader she’d hoped for: determined, honest, and open.

She hoped that revealing she had been investigating the Lannisters, and that her presence at the soirée the previous week had benefitted that, would not sour her relationship to a woman she had nothing but admiration for.

It took her two days to organize in a rough draft the information she’d gotten from Jaime, in order to present a more concrete plan to her boss. A diagram of connections - from which she noticed he was absent - a list of potential leads and sources, and a short inventory of documents she now held to support her results. 

When she made her way to the Crow’s office on Wednesday morning to present her exposé to Catelyn, the looks her coworkers shot her were vaguely alarming. Smirks and glares alike accompanied her to the office, where her employer kindly showed her the reason behind them. 

At first, the tabloid cover seemed innocuous. Brienne vaguely remembered the girl who’d represented it at the benefit: a slender, plain-but-pretty girl with heavy makeup. She’d kept away from her. The picture taking a third of the glossy paper caught her attention: it showed the back of a tall man, with golden hair, and in front of him, her own ungraceful traits. Underneath the photograph, the caption read “The Lannister heir’s new flame?”.

There was little else to do but laugh. The mere idea of Jaime and herself was too ridiculous to register. The contents of the “article” were not much better, but she was annoyed to discover that she was identified, and that a picture of him kissing her cheek had almost been blown up to a full page.

“Explanation? What happened last Friday?”

Brienne knew that the Starks were definitely not friendly with the Casterly family, and that their matriarch would be displeased by such an association.

“Actually,” she said as she closed the door of the office, “this is part of what I wanted to discuss with you.”

A deep frown creased Catelyn’s face during the whole length of her explanation, as she interrupted only a few times for clarifications. When it was done, the older woman took a long moment before making any comment.

“You can’t trust a Lannister with this.”

It was an argument Brienne had prepared for, and she spent the best part of the following hour arguing her case relentlessly. Whether they liked it or not - and both rather didn’t - Jaime’s undeniable involvement in this could prove useful again in the near future. He was not likely very trustworthy, and all the information he had provided would have to be thoroughly checked before being used, but while his younger brother Tyrion was known as particularly clever and conniving, and despite his reputation from General Targaryen’s death, the older son had never seemed the conspiring type.

When she left her office, Catelyn was still unconvinced, but gave a reluctant assent for the investigation to continue. She would take care of looking into publications with more weight susceptible to be willing and able to publish the results.

Back into her old, tattered car, Brienne’s phone showed multiple text messages. Her friend Margaery reminding her they were supposed to meet the next weekend, and four from Jaime, generally asking for updates on her research. In many more annoying words.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime gets antsy and the logical attempt to alleviate that is to bother Brienne.

In the following weeks, work took up the vast majority of Brienne’s time, enough for her friends to start complaining about her being married to her job. She typed and read as she ate, tried to piece together fragments of information during her showers and her commute. She was still writing small articles and reviews, as income was needed to pay for necessities. The rest of her day was occupied by the labyrinth of the web spun around the Lannisters, and occasional trips to records offices around the city.

The implications within the Lannister family didn’t directly point to Tywin from what she had, but to various members of lesser branches. A few elements seemed to involve people near the Baratheons, but she had to admit that she was relieved that none of the family’s most prominent members seemed directly connected. Beloved politicians would be hard to touch. 

She’d had to wonder how she would feel and react should Renly be involved. The youngest of the three brothers, and admittedly the most handsome, he had attended university for a last year in Storm’s End just as she had began her first, and as he knew her father, he'd been especially kind to her. Like anyone starved of affection, she'd developed a crush on him, and had consequently suffered through all of his relationships. The most notable of which, Margaery Tyrell, who would end up being a close friend, and later Marge’s brother Loras, when he had finally come out.

Those had been heartbreaks of the like Brienne had decided never to experience again. Not that there were many occasions to set herself up for more: she was well aware that her looks were not conductive to her being courted, and while highborn, it was a status that meant little in society these days, when it was not accompanied by significant riches. 

No, she would live her life in service of the truth, not of a man.

Jaime’s insisting attention might have cracked that resolve in someone less stubborn than she was: repeatedly hailed as Westeros Most Handsome, or at least most famously handsome, he was one of the men some girls would have died to put their hands on. He’d been irritatingly asking for updates every couple of days through text messages, with ridiculous false attempts at flirting coupled with what he probably thought were cleverly disguised insults. She’d always simply answered with, “It’s progressing” and ignored the subsequent replies.

One cold evening, fall finally rearing its head after a rainy summer, Jaime called after receiving such an answer for the xth time. She’d been sitting at her computer like every other evening, with tea and a stack of documents towering over it, and she was pleased to hear him sound annoyed. “Are you ever going to publish anything about this? It’s not much use to me if you don’t do anything with it.”

“These things take time,” Brienne replied coolly, leaning back in her chair. “Besides, I now have a lot more to investigate because of the documents you gave me. It’s not just the Freys anymore, it’s the Boltons, the - “

“Yes, well, had I known it would take you ages to look into it, I’d have given you less, wench,” he lied.

“Absolutely sorry that my quest to expose corruption is not being timely for you, my lord. Perhaps you should devise a better plan to avoid matrimony.”

“Ah, aha, that’s almost funny.” Jaime sounded less than amused, but he also didn’t seem all that concerned about that specific matter, either. “Do you need help sorting through it?”

The ghost of their encounter, even months later, made her uneasy. She got up, pacing around the small space of her apartment. “No. Thanks.” Firm.

“Come on, wench.” A more charming tone. “It’s not like I bite.”

“I would almost prefer if you did. I would have an excuse to punch you.”

She thought of a few retorts he could have made at that, but he fell oddly silent. There was no hint of a smile in his voice when he spoke again.

“What is this about?”

He must have been used to women throwing themselves at him, either for the looks, the fame, or the money. He probably couldn’t imagine that she hadn’t appreciated him groping her, or that she would resent it still so long after.

“The more time I spend on the phone - “

“What did I do?”

If he had sounded earnest, she might have been convinced to try and explain, but his tone indicated that clearly, she was being childish. She remembered growing up not understanding why her gender had to downplay their hurt and anger in order not to appear forceful or downright crazy, but while she didn’t need to show everything, Brienne had vowed she’d never let anyone make her feel small because of her pain. Whatever the nature of it.

“I have work to do, Lannister. I’m hanging up.”

She terminated the call, hearing Jaime trying to reply as she did so. He called again a moment later, which she found oddly persisting, but declined it. He didn’t leave a voicemail. Good. He could reflect on it if it bothered him that much. Spend a few nights on it, just like she had.

Thirty minutes more went by as she tried to refocus on her reading, without success. She had a feeling it wasn’t the end of it, and while she always entered a fight determined to see it through, confrontation still made her queasy. And her adversary had reach. She ended up abandoning her work for the night, settling in bed with another book on the history of Westeros, a newfound hobby that helped put her research into perspective.

~*~

Jaime walked listlessly around his apartment, going from room to room with no intent. Brienne should have been grateful for his offer to help. He was well positioned to, and willing. It had somewhat needled him, to have her be obviously angry at him for an apparently very specific reason, and her refusal to tell him. He shouldn’t be that bothered by it: he’d pissed off many people and had rarely cared about the reasons behind the resentment.

She wouldn’t drop her investigation if he insisted on the subject, regardless of how cross she might be with him. She didn’t seem the type to try and frame him, so there was no worry there either. Was it him calling her wench? She couldn’t have taken his japes seriously. She had to be used to those.

Maybe if he brought her more documents, to help her research, she'd be less reluctant to work with him. It might make it bear fruits faster, too.

~*~

Her nose picked up the scent on the first landing of the staircase leading to her floor two days later. Expensive cologne. Brienne froze, wishing against all hopes that she was wrong. Turning tail was not an option, not with the several grocery bags she was lugging. Climbing the last steps reluctantly, she was disappointed to see that he had not, as she’d imagined in vain, simply left discovering that she wasn't home. 

Jaime was leaning on the wall by her door, flipping through his phone, his chiseled features illuminated by the screen in the relative darkness of the hallway. His head shot up as the neighbour at the other end of the corridor exited her flat, a small, mousy-haired woman, smiling awkwardly at her giddiness when she passed him. She gave Brienne a look, between envy and complicity, that she couldn't find the energy to return in any capacity.

He hadn't noticed her yet, and she had to steel herself not to simply slip away quietly and pull the fire alarm. The moment he heard her, he stood straight, placating a cocky grin on his face that he soon readjusted into a more neutral smile at the sight of her deep frown. His cologne had invaded the hallway, and she briefly wondered if he'd put on even more than usual, or if the secluded space made it worse.

“I brought you more material.”

She briefly wondered if there was an engagement to be announced soon.

There was no way she was going to invite him inside her flat just so he could stink up the place. Without a word, she laid down her bags on the scratched carpet, holding out a hand. He appeared surprised, shortly disappointed, but fished another drive from his coat pocket, placing it in her hand, brushing her palm. 

“Thanks.” She slipped it in her jeans pocket, but as she grabbed her keys to unlock her door, much to her horror, Jaime bent to pick up her groceries.

“I'll help you with these.” He held them up, smiling, probably the same way he'd charmed every women he met. She unwillingly noticed the difference between his two hands: while the grip seemed strong in the left, the right one seemed to refuse closing properly into a fist. She looked away. 

The prospect of wrestling the bags from him was even less appealing than letting him in her apartment. She sighed audibly, letting him know what she thought of his presence, and walked in. He followed her without a word.

Brienne couldn't remember feeling that self-conscious since graduating. She'd had time to measure her own looks on both of their previous meetings, and while she was used to reproachful looks from strangers on the lack of femininity in her appearance (once they'd identified her as a woman), she hoped to at least appear decent. 

Which, by her standards, she didn't quite achieve in that precise moment. Her short, thin hair looked akin to straw in texture, colour and disarray. She rarely put makeup on, but she previously had for both the benefit and the initial drop of documents. Not this time. Her freckles were difficult to hide with foundation she could afford, but they stood like red ants on sand against her pale, blotchy skin without. She knew the dark circles under her eyes from seeing them day and night, a collateral damage of her ceaselessly working.

And those were there things that could be concealed or improved upon. There was nothing to do for her mouth, or her nose. 

Yet, she forced herself not to care, straightening her shapeless, comfortable clothes as Jaime placed the bags on her kitchen counter, readying her retorts for the inevitable quips he'd make about the state of her apartment. Or of her. 

He looked around with apparent disinterest, turning his attention to her, staring into her eyes. “Why are you angry with me, exactly?”

Somehow, she hadn't expected that, but she should have. He really wasn't the type not to get what he wanted, but it was still odd of him to be so persistent on something that was, all things considered, trivial. She frowned at him. “Why do you care?”

He shifted his weight. “Well, if we are to work together - “

“We are not “working  _ together _ ”, Lannister.” She started dispatching the groceries. “You provided me with information, I work with  _ that _ , not with  _ you _ .”

He watched her go around the kitchen as she avoided coming too close to him. “Perhaps it would go faster if you did.”

She stopped, giving him a long, hard glare. “If you were looking for  _ fast _ work, you should have gone to a tabloid. I do  _ good _ work, and that can’t be rushed.”

“It’s not going to be taken seriously if a tabloid publishes it.”

“Exactly. Because  _ they _ focus on doing  _ fast _ work, not  _ accurate _ work. So sit back, stop bothering me, and let me do my job in peace.”

“Your resentment is getting in the way of the objective, and that's a bad thing for both of us.”

She'd returned to her chores. “Too bad.”

Jaime sighed, leaning on the counter. “Is it because I call you wench?”

“Do I look like I’m twelve?”

He smiled at that. “I’m pretty certain you didn’t look like it when you  _ were _ twelve.”

Somehow, he must have thought that antagonizing her would crack her resolve at some point. He was grossly underestimating the years she’d had to get used to that tactic. She kept silent, finishing to sort through her purchases while he watched her without a word.

She was soon done, and stood closer to the small hallway that led to her front door, one of her large hands on her hip. “Anything else?

A short staring contest, then, “Fine.” He finally moved from the counter, turning around just he stepped out of the apartment. “Just... keep me updated, alright?” 

“Of course, My Lord,” she heard herself say. He opened his mouth, starting a sentence she had no interest in, as the door closed. She locked it, and returned to the kitchen to open the windows. Hopefully she’d be able to get his cologne out before she had to cook.

In the hallway, Jaime stared at the closed door for a moment. He knew it would be easier to let her do her job and not try to intervene, but it was an impulse stronger than he could fight. He hadn’t had that kind of opposition for such a long time, not overtly anyway, and he had to admit he was enjoying it. Well, he would be, if she played along a bit more. He smiled.

“My name’s Jaime.  _ Wench _ .”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a *really* weird turn.

Jaime sat down in the heavy leather chair across from his father’s desk. Being summoned by Tywin Lannister at the mansion was never a good omen, and knowing how he had fed traitorous documents to a journalist put him on edge. 

Still, the memory of kissing Brienne’s neck on that desk, right in front of where his father was currently ignoring him as he inspected and signed papers, was not an unpleasant one. She smelled clean, she was warm, burning even once the blush had reached her collarbones. The freckles he had been amused to find there had been camouflaged on her face, he realized, as he recalled his visit at her flat a few days earlier. He wondered how low they went.

“Something funny?” His father was observing him, and only then did he catch himself smiling at seemingly nothing. He shook his head, resuming a neutral expression and his silent wait. 

Eventually, Tywin put away his documents and focused on his son. “You remember we discussed your marital status.”

His insides clenched.  _ Here we go _ .  _ What is she doing?!  _ “We did. And I told you - “

“I'm well aware of what you said, Jaime. Which changes in no way the expectations and responsibilities that are bestowed on you from your lineage and position.”

There was nothing to be replied: everything had been said, vehemently and ineffectively, in all the discussions that had turned to that subject.

“While I would likely have made a different match, I'm glad to have received reports that you seem to have found a somewhat suitable one by yourself.”

It took several seconds for Jaime to process that information, and it still didn't make any sense. “I - reports? Did you have me  _ followed _ ?!”

“Of course I did.” The tone was matter-of-fact. “A security detail has been with you practically at all times since the... incident that almost cost you a hand. I would rather not have my heir crippled any further.”

His thoughts returned to the documents he had passed on to Brienne. What exactly had the bodyguards reported on?

Tywin continued, oblivious to his son’s reeling worry. “She won't be bringing significant wealth into the family, obviously, but her status will do. I suppose, if that's the only way to have you take up your rightful place within society - “

Only a few of the words that followed registered in Jaime’s mind, still trying to think back on the potentially damning moments that could have been witnessed and reported to his father. “...invited her for tea, so we can discuss the arrangements...” 

He jumped. “What? When?”

A cold stare. “She should be arriving presently,  _ as I've just said. _ ”

It was only just dawning on Jaime that he had no idea who was supposed to be the “suitable match” he was thought to have found. He had always been pleasant with the ladies he'd met, charming with the older ones - they loved it, he knew the game well - but there was no one he could think of that might have been construed as  _ his choice _ for a bride.

He followed his father to the salon, in some sort of daze: would he be expected to get engaged on the spot?  _ Who was it? _ Could he get out of it somehow? While he thought that the publication of Brienne’s findings might delay an engagement, it might just as well precipitate everything if the documents were made public  _ after _ his betrothal. This was not how things were supposed to go.

Jaime entered the room before Tywin, relieved that he could hope to conceal his expected shock at discovering who the lady was, at least from him. Sunlight was illuminating the gold-and-red tapestries hanging opposite lace curtains, and for a second he was confused to find a very blond man with his back to them, observing the details of a painting, hands clasped behind him.

Brienne turned around, hearing the men enter the room, and gave a wary look at Jaime’s jaw dropping. She had received a request to meet with the Lannister patriarch, with worryingly vague wording. Yet, it was not a summon one could - or should - ignore, and after an unanswered text message to Jaime to try and find out the reason of it, she'd been driven to the manor, trying to suppress the dread she felt.

The message had made it to his phone, but he hadn't checked it since. A light buzz had notified him of it as he waited for his father’s attention, earning him a stern glare, and the following conversation has taken his mind entirely off it.

His brain worked furiously to piece the situation together in the very short seconds they had. The detail must have been the men who'd caught them at the benefit, months ago: all they’d seen was them making out. They might have caught the slap, the kiss on the cheek - that one had made the tabloids. Seeing her in a café two days later. Had they had access to his cellphone communications? He'd gone to her apartment a week before, and unless they'd bugged him - he would raise hell if they had - they wouldn't know what had transpired there. 

Yes, he supposed it  _ could _ be construed as an affair. Bizarrely, as it had spanned months, but it could.

In a split-second decision, Jaime went to her, suddenly smiling affectionately. He saw her freeze, an alarmed understanding flashing in her eyes as he mouthed,  _ Play along, wench _ , and kissed her cheek, slipping a hand to the small of her back. He noticed the stiffness in her posture as he turned to his father, how she moved ever so slightly to minimize physical contact with him, and was reminded of how she'd reacted at the benefit. An annoyed thought crossed his mind.  _ A lot of women would kill for this. _

They all sat down in uncomfortable silence after Brienne shook Tywin’s hand, waiting for the maids to finish serving tea. After a sip, he finally spoke. “Miss Tarth, I'm not one to beat around the bush, as they say, so I will be brief. Marrying into this family comes with expectations and responsibilities that are not negotiable.” It felt directed at more than one person in attendance. “I trust you understand that the benefits of it are considerable, especially considering your  _ situation _ , so I expect that you will fulfil those duties with diligence.”

Jaime had an arm across the back of the sofa they both occupied. He tried to insure that they were not in direct contact, if only not to have her react suspiciously to it, yet he felt Brienne’s change of countenance the moment the word “marrying” had been pronounced. He prayed to the gods that her face, or her words, would not betray how much of a shock this was to her. 

She couldn't make much sense of the position she found herself in. How was she being presented a betrothal as fact when there was not even a relationship present? Was Jaime trying to rope her into this somehow, trying to blackmail her into working faster? Was he trying to punish her for managing to avoid telling him why she was angry?

There had been a fiancé once. A painfully bad memory, although probably more painful for the other party involved. She  _ had _ broken his nose, and cracked three of his ribs.

Either way, Tywin represented a potential, immediate threat that she had to deal with, and there was little else to do than to play into it. “I understand, Mr. Lannister.” She smiled as pleasantly as she could, hoping that her terrible skills at lying would be taken as nervousness. “A name is something easy to tarnish, not much so to rehabilitate.”

A curt nod confirmed that it was the desired answer. “Now, I suppose you are to inherit a considerable morsel of land on Tarth?”

There was a pang of sadness at the thought. Her brother had died long ago, still a child, and a string of unsuccessful pregnancies had ended in the windowing of her father. “I am indeed an only daughter, ser.”

Jaime finally realized that she must be the daughter of the minor lord holding most of the Sapphire Island. Selwyn? How had he not made the connection before?

Tywin nodded. “That is quite a small estate, especially considering the ones that my son will manage, but perhaps that will allow for... developpement.” He took another sip. “A stylist will be hired for you, to ensure your public appearances are on par with the standards we've worked hard to achieve for many generations.”

There was ice in Brienne's voice when she thanked him. That was a new one, being talked down by the man she was increasingly hoping to  _ take _ down. She had felt Jaime’s whole arm contract in a grip on the back of the sofa behind her, which he then withdrew. She briefly wondered if he'd cringed at being reminded how unappealing she looked. He’d have to get used to it, like she had.

There was to be a courting period, as they'd make their relationship publicly official, then in a few months, the engagement announcement. There was clearly a schedule planned for them, and they both knew that there was no point arguing, or discussing it at the time. 

Some further infuriating, belittling small talk later, her future father-in-law announced he'd leave them to discuss their personal matters. He shook her hand without a smile, and departed.

They were both tense as they waited for him to have gone, at which point Brienne used all her might not to scream at Jaime. “ _ What - “ _

He seized her wrist, which she immediately tried to wrench from him. He gave her a pointed look. “Let's go outside.” He only pulled until she was standing and following him towards the garden, tea cups forgotten. The air was chilly in the dying daylight, autumn having decidedly settled in. He chose a corner away from security cameras, and was relieved to see the men from the detail standing near the house: within sight, but not earshot. He watched her sit down on a stone bench, under a large, nearly-leafless tree, while he stood out of reach.

Before Brienne made a sound, he added, “You’re going to have to look overjoyed while you threaten to take my head off. We’re being watched.”

She gave him an angry smile. “Not a problem.  _ What in the Seven Hells was that?! _ ”

“I’ve apparently been followed without my knowledge, and what my father has heard of it made him think that we’re...” He waved his hands helplessly. “...having an affair?” He was still trying to make sense of it.

“I don’t think there must be a single alternate universe in which that would be a logical conclusion. What on Earth were you thinking, playing into it?!”

Jaime paced in front of her. “You think I want this? I’ve been trying to  _ avoid _ getting engaged with  _ your _ help, not  _ get engaged _ to  _ you _ !” A thought crossed his mind, and he stopped. “Although... It makes it a lot less complicated if it  _ is _ you.”

“Fantastic. That makes everything better.”

He ignored her reply, furthering his idea. “If we do get engaged - Gods forbid, married - and then your thing comes out... It becomes a good reason to break it off, and since we’re both in on it, no one is sad when it does.”

She was frowning at him, but she kept silent. He couldn’t tell if it was disgust or if she was really considering it.

“How would any poor other girl feel if I tried to explain I never wanted her in the first place, when she’d probably appreciate the fact that marrying me is an upgrade for anyone?” He tried not to smile at the roll of her eyes. “Besides, if you were to refuse now, or worse, tell the truth about the misunderstanding, it would make our... association look suspicious.”

Brienne snorted at that. “Because it doesn’t already?”

“Apparently, it’s within the realm of plausibility, according to my father,” he shrugged. “Which is good for you. Gets you closer to your assignment with an actual cover.”

He had a good point, and she was loathe to admit it. She vaguely hoped that it would mean he’d stop pestering her for updates, until the realization sank in that it was going to be much,  _ much _ worse.

She was going to have a “public life” with Jaime. Not only would they have to pretend to be a couple in front of  _ everyone _ , she would have to participate in the Lannisters’ social circle as well. Events. Pretending she belonged there. Pretending that she wanted to be there. The benefit from months ago, but on a regular, frequent basis.

Her thoughts went to that incident. Would they be expected to be physically affectionate towards one another? How else were they going to convince anyone that they had to be desperately enamoured with one another in order for an engagement to be justified, considering her...  _ situation _ , as Tywin had put it?

“I can’t do this.” She felt sick. It had to be a nightmare.

Jaime sighed, sitting down beside her at a respectable distance. He knew the guards might find that suspicious, but she seemed already uncomfortable enough. He didn’t want to get punched. “I’m open to any other solution you might have.”

Why was Brienne overreacting? The benefits of her newfound position were innumerable, but she seemed to be taking it as a jail sentence. It was only going to be for a few weeks, anyway, until the fruits of her researched exposed Casterly Corp and co, then they’d both be free. It was a pretty good deal considering the upcoming results.  _ A lot of women would kill for this _ , he thought again. 

They stayed quiet for a while, as she tried to calm herself down, breathing deeply. He guessed that now was as good a time as any. “Will you tell me why you’re angry with me?” She scoffed. “I know, I mean, prior to this debacle. If we're going to do this, we kind of need to be on the same page.”

Well, it  _ was _ a relevant discussion considering what awaited them in the near future. She straightened up, unconsciously going for a posture that would be intimidating to most people. She glared at him. 

“Public displays of affection will be kept to a  _ bare _ minimum, and... other  _ contact  _ otherwise nonexistent. Nothing will be recounted of our  _ imaginary _ intimacy, and you get one pet name  _ that I approve of _ . And,” she added when Jaime seemed suspiciously happy about that last part, “it will  _ not _ be  _ wench _ .”

He pouted for show, knowing he was going to still call her that in private. “Fine. I'll have to test some out, to see what comes more naturally.” Her eyeroll amused him. “Are you still a maiden?”

His hope that she would blush furiously at that was in vain. “For the purpose of this, I am.” It was a terribly old tradition in the highborn families to hold on to this relic of an age long gone, even though most women simply claimed to be virgins without ever being challenged. It was a symbolic thing. Nobles still had to catch up with the century.

“Every single time you will embarrass me in public, I will retaliate, either on the spot or in private. You don’t get a free pass for anything. I will - “

He cut her off. “Is that a promise? You know, that slap after we made out at the benefit was kind of arousing.”

“ _ We did  _ not _ make out.  _ You groped me. Sorry this was a pleasant experience for you, next time I could try to hinder your reproductive system instead. That would surely make your father less hurried to marry you off.”

Satisfied when Jaime didn’t answer, it was short lived: looking at him, Brienne saw he was impressed by the threat, nodding appreciatively, but showed no sign of actually taking her seriously. She stood up, feeling there was little else to discuss. Her coat had been left inside, and the evening chill was settling into her bones. Without another word, she made to start towards the house.

Jaime caught her arm, stopping her and earning another glare. “So that’s why you’re mad? Because I...  _ groped _ you to help you avoid getting arrested?”

“You could have pretended to be showing me... the books, the decoration.  _ Anything _ .”

He attempted humour. “I was showing you a  _ good time _ .”

She twisted free of his grasp. “ _ Your _ definition of a good time is not universal. You keep your distance or there will be hell to pay.” Without waiting for an answer, she went back inside through the open patio doors.

He stood there, irritated. He knew it was a bad idea before he opened his mouth, but the past hour had left him feeling like he was a pawn in everyone’s games, and not the man in control he had thought himself to be. He called out after her. “When’s the last time you had sex? I think you seriously need to get laid.”

Brienne’s head popped through the door unexpectedly. “Haven’t you heard? I’m a  _ maiden _ , and I will be until we’re  _ married _ .” She gave him a sour smile at that, closing the door behind her.

He started after her with a sigh. “Fucking fantastic.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There comes a time when forced collaboration demands more.

Cersei had been glaring at her over her constantly-filled wine glass. Brienne was used to dirty looks, but she usually got them from the men she intimidated. The women were usually derisive, or pitying. Not  _ hateful _ .

She had to admit that it was rather frequent nowadays, to see disbelieving and envious glances, when she made appearances at Jaime's side. "You have the better end of the deal," he'd said on the first night they had met. She had yet to see any truth in that. 

Her daily life had changed much. The morning routine had been sophisticated to meet the bare minimum of the Lannisters' style requirement. She felt it was a waste of time, even with the tailored clothes, to try and make her look fashionable, and her new looks had garnered annoying comments from her coworkers and friends. 

The latter had expressed serious concerns about the origin of the changes. She had been surprised to find the most resistance in Podrick, a young man she’d shown around the Crow when he was hired as a mail clerk, and had ended up pulled into her circle of friends. He had harboured a confused and hurt expression when she’d announced the news of her relationship with the older Lannister son to their group, and for a terrifying moment, she’d thought he might have developed an unrequited crush on her. 

Margaery had noticed the reaction, and had managed to coax out of him that he simply couldn’t comprehend why she would lie to them. When presented with the question, Brienne had protested weakly, but had managed to impress on Marge that things were as they needed to be, and to trust her.

“Do you  _ love _ him?”, Margaery had asked. 

She’d caught herself, and instead of rolling her eyes and scoffing, Brienne had badly lied. “We have a lot in common. It’s an... excellent match.”

“Just please don’t pretend you’re enthusiastic about it, alright?” her friend had countered. “You’re such a terrible liar, it makes me feel as though you’re a prisoner in this.”

_ You’re not so far off,  _ the journalist had thought bitterly.

Podrick had been distant since, frowning ever so slightly whenever she saw him. She was profoundly sorry that he felt alienated, grateful that he now had other friends. She had very little time to make for any of them now.

Brienne had been attending more functions than she could remember. Most of the people she met were quite friendly, to her face anyway, and she had very little energy to wonder if they thought otherwise. Between her research, writing articles that were paying for her daily expenses and the now obligatory social events, her bed saw little of her anymore. She’d fallen asleep on the couch more often than she cared to admit.

She had the occasion to observe Jaime in his natural habitat, both in the spotlight and in private. While clearly he was the same person at the core, there was a stark contrast between the persona he presented to the outside world - including to her, at first, until they were spending so much time together that it was too tiring to maintain - and how he acted when no one was scrutinizing him. Very few people seemed to have witnessed the latter, as far as Brienne could tell. In her presence, only his brother Tyrion had not produced a change in countenance.

While he was still quick to japes, he kept to clever quips rather than veiled insults. She might never know if her threat to retaliate was to thank for that, or if he’d simply realized it would be impossible to sustain for the whole time their “relationship” would last. They weren’t friends, but they enjoyed companionable silence when confined in a hotel room, after finding out that they had similar tastes in war movies.

In order to ensure that her cover would not be blown, very few people were made aware of the sham that was her odd new relationship. One of them was Catelyn Stark, who had actually been mortified at the news. She had reluctantly agreed that it put the journalist in a fantastic position to verify a lot of information, and any other objection had been met with the fact that it would be very difficult to extricate herself from that situation without arousing suspicion.

They had found a publisher in the form of Davos Seaworth, editor for The Crown. While the publication was owned by the oldest Baratheon brother, Stannis, there had been pronounced interest in exposing any wrongdoing implicating the Lannisters. After cautious conversations, they’d presented their plan, which Davos had insisted seemed quite dangerous. His concern was mainly for his employer’s position, but he promised to submit it to him and return with a decision.

In the meantime, Brienne was forced to keep up the game, and Cersei Baratheon was dead set on not accepting it. Although she was Jaime’s twin sister, and of an obvious possessive nature, the hatred she gave off against the journalist seemed exaggerated. Questioning her fiancé had produced no result.

“She’s just jealous that you’re getting a lot of attention,” he’d replied dismissively. That seemed weak at best, considering the nature of the interest that was bestowed on her. She was a curiosity, no more. “She’ll get over it,” he’d assured her.

Now, at their engagement party, despite the fact that the betrothal was anything but a surprise for anyone, his sister’s resentment glowed stronger and fiercer than ever before. Which didn’t bode well for the next few weeks: as the holiday season set in, the new fiancée was expected to spend time at the family seat in Casterly Rock, on the other coast of Westeros, with the future in-laws. Tyrion she got on with famously well: he was well-read and had made a point to review everything she had ever published, which thankfully didn’t bring any suspicion towards her current assignment. Tywin, well, that was more of the same as the original meeting nearly three months back.

And Jaime... She had been surprised to discover that he was willing to give her as much space as she needed, or at least within what their masquerade permitted, which had in turned allowed for her to relax around him. She’d caught him watching her a few times, with an odd sort of longing expression in his eyes. He always replied that he was fine when she enquired, but she was starting to suspect he might have wished for someone who actually wanted to be in her position.

As the engagement dinner dissolved into a more chaotic reception, with Cersei finally distracted from glowering at her, Brienne decided to take the opportunity to try and make her fiancé talk. Pulling on his sleeve gently to get his attention, she nodded towards the patio doors leading to the frozen garden. “Let’s go for a walk,” she said quietly, as he stared at her in confusion. Asking for time alone with him was not something that had happened before, but he followed.

They walked in silence for a while, enjoying the refreshing cold and stillness after leaving the stuffy, bustling event in their honour. It probably felt worse considering the two of them knew the celebrated occasion to be a sham.

“So,” she finally said after several minutes. “What’s eating you?”

Jaime looked at her for a few seconds, as if he tried to determine if her concern was genuine, and if he should try to explain. When he remained silent after turning back to look ahead, she pressed on.

“You said we needed to be on the same wavelength for this to work.”

“It’s just - “ he began, looking for the right words. “It’s starting to be... tiresome.”

“I didn’t expect it to go on as long as it has either, you know. And it’s more of a departure from my own life to be thrown into this, where obviously no one wants me to be. I get dirty looks all the time - “

“Alright, alright. I know this is much harder on you than it is on me, okay? Everything is. Forget I said anything.” Jaime hastened his pace, leaving her behind and going further into the darkness.

What had gotten into him? He’d been moody before, but he had turned downright somber in the past few weeks, and Brienne couldn’t figure out why. The investigation was progressing, and once it was published, the last of Tywin’s concerns would be the status of their relationship. He was also getting hailed as “such a gentleman” for “seeing past” her “rough exterior”, it was sickening. Sure, the whole thing wasn’t fun for him either, but he was getting prestige out of it.

She found him standing by the bench on which they had first agreed to this stupid game, looking at the starry sky through the naked branches of the heavy tree shielding the path. There was a deep sadness in his expression that startled her. Her first reflex was to apologize, but she struggled to find what she’d done wrong. “What’s going on?

Jaime closed his eyes, head still tilted back, and took a deep breath. “I’m fine, Brienne.”

That was concerning. He’s taken to calling her  _ sweetheart _ , mostly in public, sometimes in private in jest, but rarely used her actual name. She had wondered at some point if he felt it was too familiar. They’d kept a good distance, emotionally, to avoid getting any kind of feeling mixed up in the already complicated situation. They hadn’t discussed it: apparently both of them had taken the same decision on the subject. Or so she’d thought.

“You know, every time you say you’re fine, it becomes less true,” she offered, trying to coax him into spilling whatever was poisoning his mood. He turned to her sharply.

“Then maybe you should stop asking, then.”

“You look like you’re attending your own funeral, not your engagement party!” She felt anger rise. “People are going to notice, and that’s endangering the whole damn thing!”

“Sorry for being suffocated by  _ yet _ another secret I have to keep away from everyone in my life, at all times!”

“Then quit.” Jaime stared at her, shocked. “We can stop this right now, if you wish. We’ll go back inside, and tell everyone it was a misunderstanding, and go our separate ways.”

He stayed quiet for a moment. “We can’t do that. The investigation - “

“Yes, we can,” Brienne cut. “We also have to accept the consequences, which I’m ready to do. While my research is nowhere near as complete as it could be, there’s still more than enough to implicate most of the people who had a hand in the corruption, and they are likely to give up more people to save themselves. And it will most probably distract your father from  _ this _ ... situation. Like you wanted in the first place,” she added.

He seemed stunned, and oddly hurt. He turned away after a few seconds. “If that’s what you want to do.”

She sighed. “It’s not,” she answered, her voice softer, “but if it’s become such a burden to you, then we can just stop this.”

He sat on the bench, head hung low. A wave of sympathy washed over her despite her annoyance.

“It’s not... what I want, either.”

When he didn’t elaborate further, Brienne sat beside him, and they kept silent for some time. He ought to be used to secrets: most rich, highborn families harboured a good amount of their own, but the Lannisters even more so. And even just Jaime, with General Targaryen... “What  _ do _ you want, then? What do you need?”

A pause. “I don’t know. It’s just...” He sighed in frustration. “....lonely.”

She scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

Shaking his head, he disagreed. “You have Lady Stark. You can complain to her. I can’t talk about this to anyone without risking to let something slip.”

“Tyrion?”

“I love him, I really do. But I also know he’s resentful of being kept aside of family affairs, and the opportunities that come with them. Maybe not against me, but I’m not sure I want to risk it.”

Tywin Lannister had never been forgiving, but when his dwarf son’s birth had cost the life of his wife, Joanna, he had seemed to vow never to truly accept Tyrion. In his adult life, it had meant being overlooked in pretty much all matters, but especially regarding to Casterly. 

They turned quiet again, Brienne realizing just how isolating it must have been for Jaime, considering how big a part of their daily lives their fake relationship had an impact on. “Well,” she offered, “you can always complain to me.”

He chuckled. “Complain to you... about you?”

An elbow was aimed at his side. “Hey, I’m not that bad!”

“You’re stubborn and ungraceful, and you barely hide your distaste at the idiots in our social circle. It’s like you’re trying to make them hate you!”

“They  _ already  _ hate me. I barely qualify as highborn in their eyes, I’m ugly and ungainly, I care for none of the inane banter they adore, so why should I spend months groveling to please them for nothing? You’ll just have to deal with the, “I never liked that woman” comments for years after this is over.”

“You could make an effort! Else my father might meddle in this again.”

She sighed. The threat of further threatening talks with Tywin was one to reckon with. “Fine. I’m just not good at pretending. I can’t change that. Or do you want me to take acting classes?”

“Only if I can watch you make a fool of yourself.”

She tried to bump him off the bench, making him laugh. “Shut up.”

They enjoyed the fresh air for a few more moments before starting to make their way back inside. Jaime was walking slightly ahead of her, and his posture still told of the weight their situation represented for him. Unbidden, her hand reached for his. An odd sort of jolt went through his warm fingers as he curled them around hers, turning to meet her eyes.

Brienne found herself hugging him, the sort of long embrace that two affection-starved people might share in desperation. He smiled when they finally let go of one another, making her believe for the first time that perhaps an actual partnership might be established, rather than the reluctant proximity they had made it into. She pulled him towards the door. “I’m not keeping any of the engagement gifts, by the way.”

He groaned. “Ugh. I don’t have space for all of that shit at my apartment!” She smiled. She knew that.

“Rent some storage. You got the money for it. You can return them all when this is over.”

“ _ Can’t wait. _ ”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The socializing continues, until an unexpected situation brings them to Tarth.

Thanks to their newfound alliance, the holidays in Casterly Rock were far less stressful and awkward than Brienne had anticipated them to be. It came as a relief to them both to finally have someone to commiserate with in the rigid world they were being forced to pretend in, and it made everything lighter. Jaime was still adamant that Cersei would come around, and she couldn’t comprehend why. Sure, she couldn’t know the lady as well as her twin did, but it was obvious that Brienne had committed an unforgivable affront that only her disappearance would make up for.

Hopefully, that would come quickly. The Crown had not only agreed to publish the investigation once it would be ready, but had also affected staff to further the research on it. It was bittersweet: which she had a lot less on her plate, it was kind of abandoning a project she had devoted months to. She still supplied material and other data she gathered from her ongoing, forced socialization, but she was not in a position to be hands-on anymore.

A wedding date had been set for the summer solstice, which had come as a very shocking wake up call for both of them. Brienne had managed to extract the near promise from Davos Seaworth that the publication would run before that date. As soon as it was possible, really, as the idea of wasting troves of money on the wedding preparation didn’t appeal to her either, but that of actually going through with the ceremony even less.

“We’re going to Dorne!” Jaime had taken up the habit of letting her know of their schedule in the cheeriest, fakest voice he could muster, which always elicited an eyeroll from her, to his great delight. 

She didn’t look up from her book as he sat next to her on his couch. “Why?” Surely there were people to be courted there.

“The Prince. Apparently he’s very curious to meet you. He doesn’t believe the engagement is real, and it’s frustrating my father.”

“Wise man. Well, maybe not wise to needle your father, but you know. Wait...” She turned to him. “Isn’t it already really hot in Dorne right now?”

“It’s always hot in Dorne. But yeah, their summer has begun weeks ago. Why?”

Her clear discomfort at the idea seemed odd to him. The harsh winter that was just ending had been a pain in everyone’s ass, so he’d expected the heat to be welcome. She didn’t reply, returning to her book with a frown. That wasn’t going to fly: they had instituted a new honesty policy, and whatever bothered them was the first thing they had agreed to discuss. He elbowed her gently to remind her.

With a groan, Brienne closed her book. “I’m assuming I’m going to be expected to wear a bathing suit at some point?”

The idea made Jaime grin, which earned him a glare. “Yeah. A bikini, preferably.”

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Come on!” He leaned against her shoulder. “It can’t be that bad. You’re super fit!” Images ran through his head, that he would have expected to be comical; instead, picturing her in a swimsuit highlighted the lean, strong muscles he’d only ever glimpsed.

“I look like a man. There’s nothing to - to - “ She gestured at her chest, attracting his gaze. “ _ Fill it _ ,” she finished, annoyed.

“Okay, then, not a bikini. But it would be a shame for you to miss swimming. The beaches over there are fantastic. Have you ever been?”

She gave him a sarcastic look. “On a journalist salary? Not likely. And hot destinations are not really my thing, anyway.”

“Because of the bikinis?”

“Because of the bikinis.”

“How is it on Tarth?” He’d grown curious of her home island, but not quite enough yet to research it on his own. 

“About the same as in King’s Landing, actually, just more humid. We get colder currents from the Narrow Sea, so it’s not as warm as in Storm’s End. When it’s hot, the wind helps, and the water stays pretty cold. And when it’s cold, the wind bites at every inch of skin you leave uncovered.”

Jaime made a face. “Sounds inviting.”

“More to me than sweating all the time,” Brienne countered, smiling.

“We’ll have to go. I’ve yet to meet your dad.”

She kept silent at that, not entirely sure she wanted him to. He was aware of the engagement - how could he not have been, it had made international news - but while she had discussed it briefly with him on the phone, she was loathe to lie to him in person, in part because she knew he wouldn’t buy it. There was the chance, however, that he would think she was being forced into a marriage against her will, and that was not quite it. He would raise hell if he believed his daughter was being conned into something she didn’t want. She wanted to avoid that for as long as possible.

“We will,” she found herself replying.

Their vacation was about as uncomfortably warm as Brienne had expected it to be. The Prince seemed very amused and still completely unconvinced, but he didn’t press questions further. Jaime had a short chat with him as well, after which the insinuations that their relationship was a sham seemed to stop.

The unfamiliar environment was a bit harder to navigate as a non-couple pretending to be one, as everyone expected them to be relatively intimate with one another. Jaime didn’t seem to mind all that much, stealing appreciative glances whenever she did don her very conservative one-piece bathing suit. Then again, he had little that needed hiding of his own. Exposing his heavily scarred wrist did turn out to make him ill at ease. He’d been wearing long-sleeved shirts that covered the articulation in most of the occasions she’d be around him before, and he seemed especially aware of the stares when it was uncovered.

He had been apprehensive of her reaction to it, though he had not voiced such feelings. It had been visible, however, and while an odd sight that drew the eye, it didn’t make her uncomfortable in the least. She’d made sure to make that plain, too, if only to ensure that it wasn’t unnecessary stress he carried around.

Perhaps it was her imagination, but she felt that occasional, light touches were suddenly more common between them. Accidental, most likely, and she wondered if they were born out of the urge to protect one another from the harshness of others’ gazes. He stood closer to her, reaching for her hand when they walked. Their affectionate gestures came more naturally as well, which helped in keeping their cover intact. 

They were scheduled to remain in Dorne for three weeks, visiting multiples cities and dignitaries that Lord Lannister had seen fit for them to attend to. There were three more days to it when Brienne received a worrying call.

“I have to go home,” she announced, returning inside from the balcony she'd gone to with her cellphone. Daylight was finally draining into the horizon in Sunspear, their last stop. She looked dazed, which reminded Jaime of the time she had realized the scale of faking an engagement, under the tree at the Lannister mansion. He frowned. 

“We only have a couple of days - “

“No - “ She waved dismissively, trying to get her bearings. “Home. Tarth.” She started to gather her things, looking around with an air of confusion. He rose from the sofa he had been lounging on and went to her, worried. 

“Tarth? Did something happen?” She didn't reply, still going around unfocused, and he had to seize her arms softly to get her attention back to him. “Brienne? What happened?”

She met his eyes, and appeared to ground herself a bit more. “My father is... quite sick.” There was a sort of anxiety he'd never seen on her face, and he found it oddly contagious. Nodding, he squeezed her hand gently. 

“Okay. We’ll go. I'll book the flight.”

He was already dialing on his cellphone when she found the words to protest. “You don’t have to go.” He looked at her, putting the device to his ear.

“I’m not entirely sure you’d make it there on your own, considering the state you’re in. Besides, I’m your fiancé. No way I’m not letting you go to your sick father alone.” 

And with that, the discussion was closed.

The travelling was a bit of a blur for Brienne, but knowing that Jaime was by her side, guiding her, allowed for her thoughts to wander. Septa Roelle had given her very little information on Selwyn’s condition, and she suspected it had been on purpose. The woman, who had raised her - or attempted to - since her mother’s death during her childhood, had never seen her chosen profession and decision to leave her home island in a good light. She probably hoped to lure her back by keeping her in the dark and, well, it was working.

She should be glad, now that I’m engaged. Marriage is all she ever wanted me to do, Brienne thought bitterly. Roelle had been rigid and severe with her, attempting to break her inquisitive and stubborn spirit, and for such a long time, that had been the only motherly figure around. Lady Stark, in contrast, had been welcoming and open and encouraging, and Brienne liked to imagine that her actual mother, whom she didn’t remember, might have been the same.

Jaime said very little through the journey, for which she was grateful. He simply directed her, gently pulling or pushing her to their destination with light touches. He gave her space, reminding her occasionally that she was not alone.

The flight from Sunspear to Storm’s End was shorter than the wait surrounding it. They forwarded most of their clothing back to King’s Landing, as it was unsuitable for the colder weather of the island, embarking on the ferry to Tarth only with a small suitcase each. It was nearly a ten-hour ride, most of which Brienne spent on the bridge, trying to numb herself with the biting cold of the bay wind. Jaime eventually forced her back indoors to eat, once the darkness made it impossible for him to watch her from afar.

No one greeted them when they finally disembarked mid-evening, and a taxi ride would have taken hours to reach Evenfall Hall, her family’s seat, which no driver would agree to. She would have rented a car and driven herself, but Jaime somehow managed to pull her to a small inn by the harbour.

She eyed the unique, large bed when they entered the room, remembering the uneasy sleep of the previous night, and the unpleasant dreams that had populated it. They had shared beds many times at that point, if only to keep up appearances, and while they had occasionally woken up leaning against one another, they usually kept to their own space.

Announcing that she was probably not going to be able to sleep anyway, and that Jaime could have it to himself, she walked to the window, trying to focus on the clear sky. It was always harder to see the stars in King’s Landing.

“You need rest. You kept jerking awake last night, so you probably barely got any sleep.”

“I’m fine.” It was an automated counter: she’d barely listened to what he said.

“The more you say it, the less it makes it true, you know.” That made her look back at him, sitting on the bed with a sorry smile. He’d have acted victorious in another situation, glad to be able to use her own words to make a point, but he seemed genuinely sympathetic now. “Come lie down for a while, at least?”

She sighed, knowing that he wouldn’t let up until she agreed. He had often proven to be at least as stubborn as she was in the past few months. She spread her frame over the comforter, as he lied down alongside her. 

They had shared space and companionable silence often in the past weeks, but this was uncommonly awkward. Brienne's worrying was driving an unexpected wedge between them, and Jaime was at a loss on how to defuse the tension. 

Turning to her, he noted that she was staring at the ceiling. “It's easier to sleep with your eyes closed,” he offered, hoping his humour would not be perceived as mocking. 

“I don't want- “ Her voice faltered. “I don't want to sleep.” She rolled to her side, curling slightly, away from him. He knew she was trying to protect herself from the grief that was mercilessly stabbing at her heart, not from him. He turned to her, careful to leave space between them still. 

“Brienne, if Selwyn had been in a dire state, your septa wouldn't have needed to keep you in the dark to get you back here. She sounds like an awful person,” he added, certain of an unseen smile on her face, “but not clever or mean enough to withhold that kind of information if your father really was in critical condition.”

There was a slight movement that looked like a nod, then a sigh. He didn't expect her to suddenly cheer up, but he hoped that it would at least assuage some of her fears. 

“It's just-” She sounded unsteady. “He's all I have,” she finished, her voice breaking. 

Jaime caught himself, but “You have me” was on his lips. He hesitantly slipped a hand along her shoulder blade, then over her arm, pushing himself closer and gently pulling her back against him. She shook silently, and if he had thought she would let him, he'd have pulled her into a proper hug. Instead, he let her spend her tears, stroking her arm slowly. 

The sun was already peeking out of the clouds when he opened his eyes, still snuggled against Brienne's back. She was breathing evenly, and although she had wanted to depart for Evenfall Hall as early as possible, he decided to leave her to her peaceful sleep as long as she would. Even before the vacation to Dorne, when she was overworked and unhappily attending social events she had no time or energy for, he hadn't seen her as exhausted as she had been the night before. His damaged hand prevented him from driving, and if it came to that, he wanted her to be well-rested before taking the wheel.

While the building was obviously constructed to withstand the humid cold the harbour rolled in, the room was cooler than would have been comfortable to sleep in. Jaime realized that they had been keeping one another warm through the night, which he took as reason enough not to move away from her. He slipped in and out of consciousness until she stirred, nearly two hours later. 

After a short moment of unease at finding them entangled, Brienne stretched and reached for her phone, frowning at the time it displayed. “Nearly eight thirty,” she announced. 

“I wanted to let you sleep. I know you didn't want to,” he added when he saw her about to protest, “but you needed it. And it seemed a lot more restful than last night.”

She reluctantly agreed that he was right, when a knock was heard at the door. While Brienne straightened her clothes, Jaime opened the door to the innkeeper, who informed them that someone was waiting for them in the lobby. 

A wiry, somber man she introduced as Jon Waters drove them in near silence, giving occasional 3-word answers when she asked about local affairs. When prompted for news of her father, he shrugged. “Mostly stays in bed these days,” was the only thing they got out of him. When Jaime placed a reassuring hand on her knee, Jon caught it.

“So you're a Lannister.”

Having been introduced before they set out, said-Lannister found little to reply to that. “I am.”

“Huh.” There was a long pause. “Odd of you to marry outside of your family territory, to a lesser house, too.” It was an accurate observation, even for someone who didn't look like they'd traveled outside of Tarth, but short of explaining their situation and plan, there was little he could offer as justification. 

“Indeed.” His curt answer earned him a suspicious stare from the driver, but he could hardly have been blamed for it by the quiet man. The rest of the journey was punctuated by Brienne pointing out landmarks, but Jaime stayed quiet. He was realizing that for once, he would have something to prove.

They were greeted at the door by Septa Roelle, who seemed to have a perpetually disapproving expression on her face. She greeted them summarily, implying that she was so grateful to Jaime for taking pity on her former charge - “Actually, she's doing me the favour. None but an extraordinary woman would have taken a cripple for a husband,” he replied, earning a shocked stare from her and an elbow in his side from his fiancée - before turning to Brienne and starting to complain of pretty much everything about her. 

She kept doing so as she led them to their rooms - “separate, because you're not married yet,” she explained pointedly - and then to Selwyn’s. She was going to enter as well when Jaime held her back, asking for a tour of the building. She tried protesting, but he was used to charming older ladies, even septas. As they departed, he caught a grateful smile from Brienne as she closed the door. 

The light sound startled her father awake, but a large grin replaced confusion as he recognized his daughter. She went to him, trying to hide her relief at seeing him in a much better state than she had feared, and the tears that it brought. His embrace was solid, though his chest shook violently with a cough when he tried to speak at first. 

Selwyn was strongly built, a trait his progeny had evidently inherited. While he looked tired and somewhat gaunt, he didn't look nearly as sick as the septa had made him out to be. He was surprised to see Brienne, too, which indicated that her original call had not only been her initiative, but she also not consulted him.

They caught up quickly, both people of few words when it came to socializing. She knew the time would come, but she still cringed inwardly when he breached the subject of her engagement. 

“Why him?” He had known her to be averse to marriage, and the whole thing was clearly out of character in his eyes. 

“It's... complicated. But...” She tried to find the words that would reassure him, without revealing their play. She had full confidence in her father, but not in his household, and the fewer knew of the sham, the better it was.

“This is your choice?” As she had expected, he cared more about her decision than anything else, trusting her entirely to take care of herself.

“It is.” She smiled, then added, unbidden, “He's a good man.” Selwyn simply nodded, as another coughing spell caught in his chest. They discussed the wedding plans further, though she stayed vague, which her father didn't miss.

Roelle returned with Jaime after about half an hour, and the honeyed look she gave him before departing made Brienne angry. Had she orchestrated her visit for gossip? Wanting a selfish look at the poor man she would wed enough to pretend her father was practically dying?

Her fiancé walked briskly to the bed to introduce himself to his future father-in-law, who tried to refuse the offered handshake, explaining he was sick. “We would be family, ser, for better or for worse,” Jaime countered. “In sickness and in health.”

She couldn’t smack him for it in presence of her father, but she knew that somehow he was trying to meet expectations of strength - moral, physical, mental - as if the Evenstar’s agreement was crucial. It was a bit medieval, but also unnecessary: they weren’t  _ actually _ getting married.

The handshake did happen, after what she felt was an eternity, with an expression of approval on her father’s face. He was not a critical man, but she found that it pleased her nonetheless. At least he wouldn’t worry about her too much, she thought.

They made small talk for a while, as Jaime made veiled snide comments about the septa, that both father and daughter seemed to appreciate. Then Selwyn requested to chat privately with the groom, and she reluctantly left them, returning to her room. 

If he hadn't expressed his opposition to their union yet, he probably wouldn't do it at all. There was little to worry about, she reflected, though it didn't help her shake the feeling that a lot hinged on whatever discussion they would have. 

Jaime sat in a chair by the bed, both men silent as they waited for Brienne to exit the room. He knew he was being observed, judged, measured, and while ready to unapologetically receive criticism, he was also fearful of it. His was an opinion that she would take into consideration, and he found that he very much wanted it to be a positive one. 

“You care for her.” It was a statement, not a question. It rang with unexpected truth in his ears, and with more depth than he would have imagined.

“I do,” he replied sincerely. “Very much.”

Selwyn nodded gravely. “Don't break her heart. It's the size of her, but it does not mend nearly as easily.”

“I'm afraid she's going to break mine,” Jaime heard himself say.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A roller-coaster of emotions!

Jaime found his fiancée in her room shortly after she had left him with her father. Her door was open, and he knocked on the frame to get her attention. She had been sitting on her bed, facing away from him, and quickly wiped her cheeks when she heard the sound.

“You don't have to hide your tears from me,” he said with an amused smile, knowing they were of relief, “I'm your fiancé.”

Brienne gave him a dubious stare, but didn't shy away from the hug he offered.

“I'm going to have to say this,” he began as he pulled her in, “but I told you so.” She shook with a laugh that made him grin, leaning into him as he squeezed her tightly. “He's going to be just fine.” He felt her nod shortly against him shoulder, and for the first time, he had the clear thought that this shouldn't have to end.

They heard a slight cough, and when Brienne tried to pull away, seeing Septa Roelle staring at them disapprovingly from the doorway, Jaime had the reflex to hold on more strongly. He glared at the old woman, mustering the most menacing look he could. 

“We're going to be married in two months’ time,” he growled. “The lady is strong enough to guard her own virtue if she so desires, so you are not needed here.”

It was an odd feeling, the jolt that his tone provoked in Brienne’s stomach, and she watched the septa slink away with satisfaction. The illusion of Jaime’s perfection was being effectively dispelled.

He returned to the hug without another word, nuzzling her neck with an annoyed sigh, grumbling about engagements and medieval times. She smiled, before realizing that the atmosphere of their embrace had shifted. She was suddenly aware of his breath on her skin, and how badly she needed a shower. He didn't seem to mind: a moment later, she felt the warmth of his lips below her ear, light enough a touch that she might have imagined it. 

As she turned her head however, in the unconscious reflex to give him better access, the press of kisses on her neck became unmistakable. A shiver went through her as she fisted her hands in his shirt, which he seemed to take as encouragement, leaning further into her. 

The bed was just behind her, Brienne knew, and she wondered if Jaime would attempt to push her onto it. She couldn't quite decide if she wanted him to try or not, distracted as she was, and he pulled away before she reached any conclusion. He gazed at her for a moment, gently pressing his thumb to her skin to wipe away the rest of the tears, then onto her lips. 

She understood that he was giving her the opportunity to push him away. The memory of their first meeting had always hovered near whenever he made physical contact with her, and she had always been grateful of his consideration. This time, she simply gazed back, and held him closer when he finally kissed her.

He was tentative, and she realized that he was still somewhat asking for permission. She kissed back, throwing her arms around his neck as his encircled her waist. It was slow, mindful, blissful. So much that had been left unsaid in the past few weeks suddenly made sense. And after all the fear that had weighed down on her within the last forty-eight hours, expecting to be confronted with undeniable mortality, this felt like an overwhelming affirmation of life. 

They were breathless when they finally broke the kiss, and Jaime seemed to have no intention of letting her go. Brienne could see now how much he wanted this, and wondered how long he had. As air made its way back to her brain, however, clear issues with what had just transpired reminded her that things were not so simple. 

While her head was slightly bowed, preventing him from reaching her lips again, he pressed his own to every other bit of skin her could reach: the bridge of her nose, her temple, her jaw, going back to nuzzling her neck as she tried to get her bearings. This was going to be an unpleasantly stark contrast. 

“Jaime.” She pressed her hands lightly against his shoulders, and to her relief, he stopped immediately, pulling away to look at her. She could see worry in his eyes, but she couldn't tell if he wondered about going too far, or too fast, or if he understood that she was about to put an end to it. 

“This is a bad idea.” The hurt in his face, that he struggled to contain, confirmed that it was not what he had had in mind. She looked away. 

“How?” He knew all the ways in which this would not work already, but he held onto the vain hope that he could talk her out of it.

Which, clearly, she didn't appreciate. Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “This is already complicated enough, we don't need to be making it worse with... passing fancies.” They had both set out to reach a goal, and this was not part of either of them. 

Jaime’s expression was difficult to read now, though obviously he disagreed; but he let go, stepping back with a curt nod. “We should get something to eat,” he said flatly, and as Brienne watched him exit, she thought it was probably a good thing they had separate rooms for their stay.

~*~

Selwyn detected that something was amiss when they dined with him that night, but he said nothing. Despite the frosty atmosphere between the couple, by the end of the meal, Jaime seemed to have come to his senses, reverting to his charming, social facade. 

He lightly suggested that Brienne show him around the estate the next day, and her father’s enthusiasm for the idea prevented her from refusing. He had been right: she  _ was _ strong enough to defend her own virtue, but that didn’t mean she welcomed the occasion for him to insist.

They walked for nearly an hour in the morning, as she showed and explained flora, fauna and traditions of the island. Despite the tension between them, there was an aura of relaxed confidence about her, and he knew that being home made her feel a lot more at ease. Displaying her worry like she had done on their way to Tarth had been unusual of her, and he started to fear that he might have taken advantage of her vulnerability.

He had been so certain that she felt the same way. Apparently not: “passing fancies”, she’d called it. Not much about it felt passing, but it mattered little if it was one-sided. 

They got to one of the cliffs bordering the island, a sturdy fence directing the path safely away from the edge. Brienne straddled it easily before making her way past it, as Jaime looked on uneasily. She turned around briefly to look back at him, sapphire eyes determined, and a strange kind of fear seized him. It took him a moment more to make a decision, then he followed suit.

She stopped a few feet from the drop, watching at the gleaming blue waters beyond. It was a breathtaking view, giving the impression to be on top of the world. And that the fall would be long and brutal.

“I used to come here, when things got bad,” she spoke against the wind. “Just... look out to the sea, and... at the rocks below. I- “

How was she still trusting him enough with this? 

“I wouldn’t have jumped, but... but I can’t say I haven’t thought about it. Many times.”

Jaime walked to her side slowly, resisting the urge to pull her back to safety. It seemed to be a solemn moment for her, and he wondered if she’d ever told anyone about it. Growing up as she looked couldn’t have been easy, but she always looked so solid. Clearly, it was an acquired shell. While it was something he admired in her, he wished that somehow she hadn’t had to suffer to gain it.

“Sorry, that’s...” He had stayed quiet, and she apparently took his lack of reaction as lack of interest, preparing to retract back to her defenses. He slipped a hand into hers, pulling her away gently from the edge. She looked at him quizzically, but he just walked on, back to the fence, helping her across, never letting go.

They continued on the path circling back slowly towards the Hall, in silence, as Jaime’s thumb stroke her fingers. He was both surprised and relieved that Brienne didn’t try to pull her hand away from his, but it didn’t really help the confusion that was settling on whatever they had.

“It’s a bit distressing to think of... of you being so miserable, so close to that cliff,” he finally said, when they were back to the safety of the burgeoning canopy. It had moved him far more than he had initially thought, and he found he didn’t quite have the heart to smile.

“That was a long time ago.” She flexed her hand slightly in his, making him think that the memories would never entirely fade. Possibly because a lot of people, to that day, probably still told her the same things cruel children had.

Including him.

“I’m not the same girl I was then, either,” she continued. “I... understand people better now. You’ve been an idiot,” she shrugged, as if she felt the weight of it on his heart, “like so many before you, and many more after you. There will always be idiots. You’re just... not a special one. There’s nothing you’ve said to me that I haven’t heard before.”

An unspecial idiot. A passing fancy. They were words spoken with no ill intention, and yet, they pricked bitterly. But she was right. He had been an idiot, on so many counts. There as little to say in reply. “I’m sorry.”

Brienne smiled playfully. “Okay, you win, that one’s a first.”

I love you, Jaime thought, knowing he couldn't speak it. Was that one she hadn't heard before either?

There was little left for her to describe around them, and they had never quite been the ones for small talk, so they went on in silence. They’d matched their pace early on, in a manner that felt oddly natural: neither was used to strolling with someone whose strides matched their own.

He felt compelled to share something with her too. The feelings she’d evoked earlier were not unknown to him, but he’d never voiced them or even alluded to them to anyone.

“I, huh, I’ve felt like that, before,” he began. She looked at him, but he kept his gaze on the path ahead. “After the...incident.” He waved his right arm. “I was never... I was never in a position to act on it but... I would have welcomed it. There was a time...”

He’d been rambling, pulled into old, hateful memories. His were little compared to the lifelong harassment she had been going through, he felt, but he had not much else to offer. Brienne kept quiet, long enough for him to start thinking he had been childish to despair. 

“I don’t think so.”

He had to stop to look at her. “What?”

“I don’t think you would have gone down without a fight.”

There she was, with a compassionate smile in her eyes, a serious expression on her face, telling him he was mistaken about his own feelings. 

He asked quietly. “Why not?”

“It’s not who you are, Jaime.” She smiled, with her lips this time, at the confused look he gave her. “I don’t doubt that you felt ready to give up and that you were miserable. I just think... If your life had really been in the balance, if you had faced imminent death, you would have ended up fighting with all that you’ve got to survive. Even at that point.”

She watched him turn the words over in his head for a moment, before he turned to resume their walk. How could she be so confident in who he was, when he still doubted it himself?

“I mean, you're so stupidly stubborn and proud, you'd hang on to life just to spite the Stranger. He would probably dislike you.”

He laughed, tension significantly lifted off. “That makes two of us! Actually, I always imagined the Stranger to be a woman.”

“That would not help your case.”

“Women adore me!”

“That one would see through the bullshit, much like I do.”

“ _ You _ like me!” He might not get more than that, and not for much longer, but he desperately hoped for her to agree. 

Brienne raised a mocking eyebrow. “I _suppose_ , if it came down to it, I would _,_ _probably_ , vouch for you in front of Him. Or Her.” Good enough.

They jested until they reached the Hall again, shortly before lunch. He was about to reluctantly let go of her hand and head inside, but she held him back. 

“Jaime... It's not you fault. That... this,” she pointed to him and herself successively, “can't work. You haven't done anything wrong.”

They gazed at each other, measuring the untold loss it represented. He stepped to her, cupping her jaw and pulling her into a last kiss. There was no resistance, but no reciprocity either. He realized that she was already letting go.

He stroke her cheek, thinking of the tears that had been there some twelve hours prior. It was about as long as there had been hope for something more. 

“No one's fault,” he agreed softly. “Just bad timing.”

She nodded with a sad smile. They turned to go back inside, when her cellphone rang. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes, people move. Like a river flow, it never ends. Startling revelations, forgiveness, and fate who cares for naught.

"You can't let him publish that."

"Why, Jaime? Because it's true?"

"Because of the  _ children _ , Brienne. They don't deserve that!"

Going to him with Davos's claims might have been a mistake, but she couldn't have helped it. They had shared too much for her to simply accuse him, and if it was true, there were over six months of her life with him that would suddenly shine in a new light. 

Among other things, the hatred that his sister had overtly demonstrated for her.

The editor had shown her proof through encrypted emails. DNA tests that seemed to confoundingly show trace of only one parent, all Cersei's own genetic material, so much that it was baffling. The Baratheon line, illustrated over centuries, persistently dark of hair, regardless of the mother's traits.

And Robert's children, golden-haired like their mother and her twin, with green eyes that were now avoiding Brienne as she attempted to get the truth out of Jaime. 

Dinner had been torture, as she waited for the right moment to confront him, and both him and her father had expressed their worry about her somber mood. She had asked her fiancé to take an evening stroll with her, and had cornered him in the gazebo, a long way from any window, and offering a view to detect any potential eavesdropper.

"You can't publish that," he repeated, more firmly.

"Jaime, the consequences - "

"I KNOW OF THE CONSEQUENCES!"

He had rarely raised his voice at her, and he was now standing, defying in his stance, but pleading in his eyes. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

"What, people finding out that you had been f- "

"She wanted that relationship as much as I did."

Brienne cast him a disbelieving look. It was making less and less sense as the conversation progressed, and a headache had started behind her eyes, out of fatigue and frustration. She sat down, massaging her brow, trying to appease the pain. 

"Just... tell me the truth, Jaime. Please." This was going downhill fast.

"We're twins. We have a... connection that no one else understands. We shared a womb."

Four times now, she thought, but refrained from saying out loud.

"It just felt... natural to us," he continued. "Like two pieces of a whole coming together."

Brienne held up a hand. "I don't need the details."

"You said you wanted the truth. It's part of it."

When she didn't protest further, Jaime resumed his story. "Our father had plans for us, pawns to further the family name. Cersei married Robert because of that, but it wasn't a happy union. From the start."

He sighed. "She told me that the idea of bearing his children made her sick, but we always used protection. She found a way around that, or just lied to me. When Joffrey was born blond... she said a lot of children are, but that it darkens. I naively believed her. He was still blond when Myrcella was born.”

How had no one else noticed?

“And then Tommen. All blond. All green eyes. I confronted her.” He pressed his hands over his face. “She went berserk. She threatened to tell everything if I ended things. I reminded her that she would  _ lose _ everything if she did. Including the children.”

His arms fell back to his sides. Brienne could tell that the whole thing was a source of regret, but she couldn’t tell if it was for that situation ever taking place, or for having to put an end to his relationship with his twin.

“That was four years ago. I haven’t been alone with her since. She tried to come by my apartment a few times, but not after... my hand.”

Despite the enormity of it all, she found that she felt sorry for him. His life seemed to be secrets after secrets, and while she knew that it was in part due to his own choices, she had had a taste of what it was like to be caught in a situation where the truth would make things worse.

“Do you have any intention of ever claiming them as your own?”

“Of course not,” Jaime scoffed. “Robert raised them, well, in a way,” he said with clear disgust in his voice, “and even if that position had been open, how would I have explained that to them?” Sadness visibly washed over him, only for a moment, replaced by fierce resolution. “If you publish that, they will never have a moment of peace. They didn't choose to be in this situation. If there is a way to punish us for it this, other than being apart, it must not involve them.”

She nodded, finding nothing else to say. That affair was not directly linked to the initial investigation, and so making it public mattered very little for her case. What if it  _ had  _ been crucial to it? Could she have made the choice then?

“I need your word, Brienne.” He was looking at her, with determination if not with confidence. Barely hours ago, it had been with longing. How had they come to that?

“I swear that I will do everything I can not to have this published,” she answered. “But you have to understand that it might be out of my hands.”

Jaime swallowed with a nod, then turned to make his way back to the hall. Pausing at the first step of the gazebo, he spoke softly while though looking back at her. “I'm sorry you were put in this position.”

“I chose to look for the truth. It is not known to be pleasant.”

She watched him leave, taking a few moments to steady herself before calling Davos. He confirmed that only himself and the researcher who'd managed to find the incriminating documents - and happened to be one of his sons - were aware of the affair, and he patiently listened to Brienne’s reasoned plea not to make any of it public. He was a good man, and a father: surely he would understand. 

He ended the call with the promise to think on it. Brienne knew that his employer, Stannis Baratheon, would find the information quite useful: there had been rivalry between the three Baratheon brothers in politics, and Stannis’s moves had not always seemed to take familial ties into consideration.

She was also aware that Davos was fiercely loyal to him, which would probably weigh in on the decision. There was no denying that Jaime was right: it would ruin the children’s lives. The truth would probably come out at some point, since it wasn’t all that well hidden anyway; but there was no reason to hasten the fall, nor to point to him as the father. They would probably be revealed to be illegitimate eventually, but unless the concerned parties opened their mouths, there was a chance to avoid catastrophe.

Her father questioned her the next day about the now very obvious rift that had been driven between her and her fiancé, but she couldn’t explain the nature nor the extent of it. He warned her not to wall herself in secrets, but that one was not hers to decide on.

There was no one she could talk to this time: that was not information that she could share with Lady Stark. Davos had been incredibly tactful in reaching out to her directly with the findings, knowing she was closest to Jaime, rather than going to her boss. Catelyn was a mother, but she had also expressed the fear that the Lannisters and other families involved in the scandal might come after her family, and Brienne was afraid that it would feel like leverage in her hands. She disliked the idea of children’s lives used as a bargaining chip.

Two days after their initial discussion on the subject, the editor called her back, agreeing to not only leave the information out of the publication, but to rebury it as well as they could. His son had been of the same opinion, she was relieved to hear: he might have obeyed the order, but if he had disagreed, it would have remained a risk.

She thought Jaime might cry when she informed him. She had taken the call during dinner - earning a glare from Septa Roelle - and returned a few minutes later, squeezing his wrist gently under the table as she sat down. “It’s safe,” she simply said, quietly, hoping he’d understand. He met her eyes, and she saw pressure lifted off his.

In the next few days, Selwyn’s condition improved enough for him to take short walks around the grounds. The temperature has risen somewhat, and the island had taken a distinctly tender, green hue. In contrast, a lot of things were coming to an end: Davos had also informed her that they were almost ready to begin the publication of their investigation, which would be released in three parts. That would also put an end to the masquerade that her engagement to Jaime had been.

And to their friendship. If that’s what they had.

“Brienne.” Her father brought her back to the present as they approached the gazebo to rest. “You two are breaking up.” It was a statement, not a question, and she found that she didn’t have enough remaining energy to deny it.

“When I first heard about it,” he continued when she stayed silent, “I thought it was very much unlike you, to get engaged to a spoiled, handsome man. A crush, perhaps, but you had more sense than that.” He had a little smile, making her blush. She had been quite transparent as a child.

“But I trusted your judgement, like I have for most of your life. You know when to follow your heart, so I waited to see how things would turn out. Then I saw you two together, when you arrived. And I understood.”

He reached one of the benches inside the gazebo, the same where Jaime had sat as she accused him. “I trust you, Brienne,” he reiterated, “and I want you to be happy. I don’t know what is happening in that relationship, and I have a feeling it’s much more complicated, and much simpler, than you can explain right now. And you should trust yourself as well.”

She sat down beside him, leaning in his warmth. She had always been grateful to be able to feel smaller than him. Protected.

“It’s not the right time,” she said simply, wondering if that was really the main obstacle. “And I don’t know that there will ever be one,” she finished, her voice breaking as misery flooded her. She cried for her broken ideals, for the truth that hurt more than it helped, for something she had lost before she had ever held it. For being reminded that there was little in this world that she could really hold on to.

Her father held her as she sobbed her way through what felt like a lifetime of pain, until she was spent. He said nothing, knowing that she had all the answers already, and that they were just terribly painful to implement.

She was still wiping her tears - again, Tarth really was known for its waters - when Jon reached them. He eyed her with a frown before delivering his news. “Lannister’s leaving. He asked me to tell you.”

The small suitcase was being zipped back shut when Brienne entered Jaime’s bedroom, confused. His expression was weirdly blank, though he had a slight frown upon noticing her puffy eyes. She shook her head dismissively. “What's going on?”

“He's dead.” He basically blurted it out, though still in a surprisingly flat way. The statement took a few seconds to process, and without more forthcoming information, Brienne was at a loss. 

“Who -”

“Tywin. My father.”

“Your- what?” It didn't seem to make any sense in her mind.

“My father. They said it was a heart attack. Tyrion called me. I have to go.” He lifted his suitcase off the bed, making his way out past her without another word, and without looking back.

She was too stunned to react at first. The Lannister patriarch had been more than once noted for his health, especially considering his age, and such a sudden death seemed ridiculous. Something was off.

Shaking herself back to reality, she went after Jaime, who was already marching to Jon’s car. The day was ending, and she wasn't sure he would make the night ferry. “The one in the morning then,” he countered without missing a beat. Brienne knew he was in shock, and that it would end on its own; but she didn't want him to have to face the next part alone. 

“I'll go with you,” she said, turning back to go get her things. There was no time to pack, but the essentials - wallet, cellphone - were still needed.

“No.” They stared at one another, his expression as hard as his reply. The realization that everything was coming down fast hit her. 

His father had been the reason they pretended to be together. 

His father was gone. 

“You don’t need to be there,” he said, and the unsaid  _ anymore _ lingered between them. She couldn’t tell whether he was trying to release her, or hurt her. She felt tears rising once again, frustrating her. She had thought she was done with that.

“I’ll drive you.” She thought she might choke if she spoke further.

Jon was coming up the path, helping Selwyn along the way. She headed straight to him, holding a hand out. Jaime tried to protest. “Brienne, don’t -”

“The keys.” Jon stared at her, uncertain, hesitating a second too long for her frayed patience. “The keys!”

The second they fell in her hands, she bolted inside while all three men called after her. She shouted back. “Get in the car!” She hoped to get her emotions under control by the time she got back with her things.

Such a long ride, in that atmosphere, was not going to be anywhere near pleasant, and she doubted her impulsive decision within the first minutes of awkward silence. There was little to be said, really. She couldn’t find the words to even express condolences, finding that everything sounded flat and impersonal. Not quite what you say to someone you’ve shared months of your life with.

Jaime stayed quiet as well, watching the sunset disappear into the bay. His expression had returned to some sort of blank mask, and she thought of the conflicting feelings he must be dealing with. He didn’t hate the man, but he had represented a lot of pressure and bad memories that she knew would bring relief with their disappearance. And yet, losing one’s father could never be without pain. She had tasted the shadow of it only a few days before.

Darkness overtook the car as they progressed, and the tense silence slowly turned into a companionable one. It was a good thing that she still knew Tarth’s roads by heart, allowing her to let her mind wander. Over to the previous weeks, mostly. 

They reached the ferry with a good twenty minutes to spare. Brienne cut the contact, but they remained still. She thought he might have fallen asleep, but he was looking straight ahead through the windshield.

“I’m sorry about your father,” she finally found the courage to offer. He nodded slightly.

“Yeah.” It took so much time for him to say anything else that she started thinking he didn’t believe her. “Me too,” Jaime added after a long pause. Without looking at her, he exited the car, taking his suitcase back from the backseat, shutting the doors with just enough force.

This couldn’t be ending like this.

She ran after him, calling out, pulling him into a hug when she reached him. He took a few seconds to respond, then buried his face in her shoulder, embracing her back at last. There should have been so much more to discuss, but there was no more time for it. She just hoped to leave him with the certitude that she was still on his side. Regardless of what had happened in the past few days.

As he pulled away, he looked more shaken than he had since learning the news of Tywin’s death, and she had the desperate urge to hold him back, have him spend the night on Tarth, and leave in the morning. 

He seemed to know her thoughts before she said anything. “I’m fine,” he argued, adding when Brienne opened her mouth to protest, “I know. But I’m going to have to do a lot more pretending in the next few weeks, so I might as well start practicing now.” He had a weak smile, which pained her more than anything else. “I’ll get through this. You worry about your own storm coming,” he advised, and it took a moment for her to remember the investigation being published soon.

“That’s... that’s not going to help you much either,” she realized out loud. He would probably have to deal with the aftermath of it himself. He tried to dismiss her worries, but she knew how things would be. How hard. “I’ll have the publication delayed for a couple of weeks.”

“You don’t have to, Brienne,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t owe me anything. On the contrary.”

“I would have been in jail for trespassing if it hadn’t been for you.” She smiled. “I might never have been to Dorne, either,” she added.

“Or worn clothes that flatter you,” Jaime chimed in, earning a warning glare that made him grin. Finally. “Well, kind of,” he corrected, and she had a glimpse of his former self. It was gone in an instant, shadows overtaking his features again. He pulled her back to him, pressing his forehead to hers, eyes closed. As if to cement the memory of her in his mind.

This couldn’t be ending like this.

She kissed him, unexpected to both of them, and for a second the fleeting thought that she might be able to hold him back one more night with this promise flicked through her mind. He still wanted her, she could feel it in the way he grappled at her waist, the way he responded; but it would be selfish. She had to let him start dealing with his pain instead of adding to it. Wasn’t that what one should do for the people they loved?

Jaime walked away to the ferry while she watched on, not turning back. She stared at the lights of the vessel until the night swallowed them, and then stared some more at the dark sea, wondering how long she would carry the pain of a man she would probably never meet again.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reminiscing, reconnecting, reconsidering. Sex that I was pretty awkward at writing. Fluff! and some angst because I'm unable to not write angst.

The scent hit her nose as she reached the last landing of the stairwell leading to her floor. Olfactive memories had always been so strong, taking her back to moments, places, and people with the simplest hint of spice.

Or in this case, cologne.

Brienne hadn’t been around that smell for a long time. How long had it been, three years? Nearly. An expensive aroma that just didn’t hang out in her usual circles, but that she had gotten very familiar with for months. A long time ago.

Reaching the hallway of her apartment, she could see the man sitting by her door, his golden head leaning against the wall. His jaw and cheeks were covered with greying beard, giving him more years than he should look at... thirty-nine? Forty? He had been clean-shaven most of the time she had spent with him. She remembered the envious looks his jawline used to get her from other women.

He looked somewhat dishevelled, apparently asleep in a rumpled suit, his jacket across his lap. Her mousy neighbour, always one for good timing, left her own flat and cast a disdainful look at her unconscious visitor then at her. Brienne couldn’t tell if the woman had recognized him, or taken him for a homeless person.

Still, it was actually an endearing sight, to her anyway, and she made her way to her door. He hadn’t stirred even with the movement around him, and she wondered how long it had been since he had had decent sleep as she crouched over him.

As she had expected, Jaime had been left to deal with the brunt of the scandal that hit the Casterly corporation following the publication of her research. Not that he had been a figurehead of the company in any official capacity at the time, but as main heir to his newly departed father, everyone turned to him to defend it.

And he had proven himself worthy.

The people responsible for the corruption within the organization had been unceremoniously disavowed, and he had publicly admitted that there had been a lot of wrongdoing, and that he would fully cooperate with all authorities to rectify it. The board of directors had been horrified - partly because many of them had been involved - but Jaime inheriting most of his father’s shares, combined with the ones he had held previously, and Tyrion’s, who had stepped up to assist, put them in no position to dictate any of his behaviour.

Many more families had been involved, and Brienne’s investigation had allowed the federal authorities to crack down on several cases that had been pending for lack of proof. Some still managed to worm their way out of any conviction, but their image and thus, commercial potential, had still suffered from it.

She had expected to receive radical backlash for her role, considering she had been publicly engaged to the Lannister heir, only to apparently torpedo the family company, and then disappear. However, as there had been much more research done after the case was handed to The Crown’s crew, she had been credited as a collaborator, not has the main investigator. It had been bittersweet, as she’d been very attached to the project as her first major story. But everyone in the reporting world had been informed of how much work she had really done.

When people questioned Jaime about it in interviews, he firmly - almost angrily - stated that she had done nothing without his knowledge or assent, and that he was grateful for her role in exposing the poisonous network he would work on extracting from his company.

There had been a few threats after that, mostly disgruntled fans and misogynistic idiots, but she had generally been left alone.

A few phone conversations had happened between them within the first two weeks following his hasty departure from Tarth. Brienne had assured him once again that the secret of his past relationship to Cersei was safe, and had confirmed that the publication was to be delayed for a month, to give them all time to grieve. She knew it would not be enough, but he had been grateful all the same.

While Tywin’s death remained suspicious, no foul play had been found out. The police did question her twice following the release of first part of the article, as her relationship to his heir suddenly looked opportunistic. There had been nothing to be found, but she surmised that Jaime might have had something to do with their sudden lack of interest in her as a suspect. But they had not talked again.

And now he was asleep, outside of her apartment, nearly three years later.

She laid a hand on his shoulder, startling him awake. He took a moment to focus his sleepy green eyes on her as she watched him with a mocking smile. “What are you doing here?”

He stared at her for a moment, then looked around groggily. “I’m... testing hallways. See if they’re comfortable for sleeping. New venture.” She nodded, trying not to laugh. “This one, I have to say, not so much. You should talk to your landlord about it.”

Brienne stood up, looking down at him with a smirk. “Will do. Sorry to have interrupted your testing,” she added, unlocking her door. “I’ll let you get back to it,” she called from the entrance of the apartment, leaving the door open as she went to the kitchen. She could see his head turned to the side, with a grin on his lips, as she retrieved two beer bottles from her refrigerator. She wasn’t one to drink, even on a Friday night, but she had a feeling they would be needed.

Was his heart pounding as hard as hers was?

He remained sitting, perhaps waiting for a formal invitation. She went back, leaning against the doorway with her drink. “Do you need help getting up?” The look he gave her sent a quiet shiver through her spine. How could she have forgotten how he had made her feel?

A hand shot up, accepting her offer, and she helped hoist him back upright. Jaime groaned slightly as he stretched, following her back inside the flat. She closed the door behind them, and for a moment they came face to face and her heart almost stopped. It was the same man she had known, and then not quite; but it was the same look she remembered from the night he’d first kissed her. In that breathless moment, she almost hoped he would do so again.

For a second, it seemed that he would, but he shook himself back to reality. “It’s good to see you,” he let out instead, and Brienne nodded, speechless, handing him a beer. She brushed against him as she led him to the living room.

They settled across one another, her in an armchair and him on the sofa. He had only been in there a few times in passing, coming to get her for events. It was small, but comfortable, and she spent little enough leisure time in it to need any more space than provided. They sat in awkward silence for a moment, as he inspected the room.

A nostalgic smile set on Jaime’s face as he noted the one picture she had printed from their vacation in Dorne, sitting on a shelf. It featured neither of them - she wouldn’t have been able to stomach the reminder - but the silhouette of one of their hotel against a sunset backdrop. He tried to hide a sigh, then turned back to look at her.

“You’ve been busy,” he stated, with an admiring tone. She had been. Her work on the investigation had impressed both Lady Stark and other publications, and she had published on several sizeable stories since they had last met.

“So have you.” He didn’t appear in gossip magazines much anymore, having apparently devoted all of his time to the company he now spearheaded. He still made the financial papers occasionally, and Brienne had made a point to keep up with that.

He smiled. “I’ve...” Taking a deep breath, he seemed to steady himself. “It’s actually why I’m here. In part.”

She waited for him to go on, unsure of what he meant.

Her silence seemed to make him hesitate, but he continued. “I’ve just finished cleaning things up. Closing deals and... everything,” he explained.

“Oh.” She nodded, though she still didn’t see how it made more sense for him to be here now in light of that.

“I was just wondering if- “ Their eyes met, and she was suddenly afraid of what he might say. Or rather, of what she might not be prepared to agree to. “If it really had to end completely back then,” he finished, staring at his beer.

She had wondered the same, at the time, racked with guilt over leaving him alone to deal with the death of a parent, and then of an empire. Especially as she had been the cause for the latter. There was little more she could have done by his side, however, and it might have gotten him criticized further. 

That's how she had justified it to herself at nights, anyway.

Now that Jaime was here, asking the same, Brienne wasn't so sure anymore. He wasn't questioning the past, she knew, but the state of their present, which held no more certainty.

“I think it did,” she heard herself reply, as he bowed his head with a sad smile. He had been steeling himself for this, she thought. “Back then,” she continued, his head shooting back up, “it did.” Their gazes met again, and after a while, he nodded. 

That moment reminded her of the leap of faith she had taken in the Lannister mansion, trespassing to look for something that she was unsure was even there. Perhaps they would have as little in common now as they had had when they first met in that office, but there were far fewer risks in this exploration. She hoped.

She stood, making her way to the kitchen as he watched her quizzically. They might need something other than alcohol, she decided as she prepared coffee. She took out chips, crackers, salsa, dip, bringing everything to to the living room table. Jaime said nothing, and she returned with fresh coffee after a while, handing him a cup.

Sitting back down in the armchair, she looked at him. “So,” she began. “How have you been?”

They talked for hours, both catching up and reminiscing about their time together. The challenges they had faced in their respective position, the ones they still expected to encounter. Popular culture, political events, personal victories. Jaime enquired about Selwyn’s health, which had not created further issues since they’d parted. Brienne asked about the children, receiving a vague answer as he had kept his distance still.

The sun had already been dipping towards the horizon when she had returned home, but it was completely dark by the time they were interrupted by her buzzing cellphone. Margaery had already sent her several text messages she had not heard, and was now calling to find out what was happening.

“Shit,” Brienne uttered out loud, earning a worried glance from her companion. She shook her head. “I was supposed to meet friends for drinks. Hey, Marge,” she answered, knowing that ignoring her further would only cause problems. 

“Wheeere the hell are you?” Clearly, she had not waited for her arrival for drinks.

“I’m sorry, I had an...” Her eyes met Jaime’s. “An unexpected visitor.” He stood up, mouthing that he was going to use the restroom.

“Are you okay?” While Brienne was entirely capable of defending herself, her friend had been worried for her safety ever since she had started receiving threats, following the publication of her investigation, and the breaking of the engagement. She assured her that she was fine.

“So, a  _ visitor _ ,” Margaery repeated in a complicit tone. She had been very insistent that the tall reporter needed to get laid. “Anyone I know?”

“It’s not like that,” said reporter protested. “And... yes.”

A beat passed, filled with the background music from the bar. “Well? Who is it?”

Ugh. She’d never hear the end of it. Throwing a glance at the closed bathroom door, she braced herself. “Jaime.”

The cellphone emitted a loud screech, followed by victory sounds. “I KNEW IT! Guys, you owe me twenties. What a perfect timing!”

“What do you mean, they owe you? Did you idiots place a bet on me?” They knew how she felt about wagers!

“No, no, love, we didn’t. We placed a- well,  _ I  _ made a bet with them that  _ Jaime _ would go back to you at some point. And I was  _ RIGHT _ !”

Brienne was speechless, listening to her friend celebrate her winnings. Annoyance rose in her, the kind that only a drunk Margaery was able to elicitate. “Well, you placed that bet based on privileged information that I gave you about our relationship, so that’s cheating. You’ll have to forfeit the money.” The sudden silence on the other end of the line brought a satisfied smile to her lips. “Anyway,  _ like I said, _ it’s not even like  _ that _ .”

“Really? You think that after all that time, he came back just to be friends? Cause I don’t buy it. Tell me, has he asked if you’re going out with someone yet?”

“He hasn’t,” she answered in a smug tone, feeling it proved her point.

“He will, trust me. He wanted you then, and he still wants you now. You’re a terrific friend, Brienne. But that’s not what’s bringing him to your yard. Also,” she cut off when she felt a protest rising, “I’m absolutely certain that he’s going to look ready to leave you in peace if you mention Tormund. Just try it, okay? You’ll see. Now I’m going to go collect my earnings, and I hope to only hear from you on Monday after a wild weekend of sex with your hot future husband. Byyyye!”

The line cut before Brienne could put another word in, and she put the phone away with a sigh, just as Jaime returned to the room. “Do you... have to go?” Clearly he hoped that she didn’t.

“Nah. I see them every other week.  _ We _ ... haven’t talked in three years, so.”

There was another awkward pause as he nodded, visibly relieved that their discussion didn’t have to end there. They faced each other, unsure where they stood, figuratively speaking. He opened his mouth to speak, hesitating, then came out with it. “So, are you... seeing anyone?”

She resisted the violent urge to facepalm, seeing Margaery’s prediction come true, though some must have shown on her face, as he immediately started apologizing.

“It’s fine,” she cut, “I’m... not. There’s...” Well, Marge had been right so far, she might as well test out the rest. “There’s this guy at work who’s been... hovering, I guess. But...” She shrugged, trying to study his expression without being too obvious.

He clearly didn’t seem to care about being observed, not nearly as much as he did about what she was saying. “But...?” There seemed to be so much hanging onto her answer in his eyes.

“But... what’s the point, if it’s not mutual?” 

They locked eyes, and for what seemed like an eternity, she couldn’t tell if her heart had stopped. A second later, Jaime was against her, begging for her to kiss him back, as if she might have had any reason not to. But like their first time, Brienne pulled him closer, echoing his need. Neither had really thought they might be afforded another chance, and now that they were, they both clung to it with desperation.

For a while, every time she tried to pull away - feebly - he would reel her back to him, as if he could prevent her from whatever argument she would undoubtedly form the moment her tongue would not be otherwise occupied. He wasn’t completely wrong.

She let it runs it course, knowing they’d have to come up for air at some point. He was studying her as they caught their breath, and he seemed oddly confident despite the hesitation that was surely showing in her eyes already. He kissed her again before she could speak, and she wondered how much longer she could talk herself into indulging into it.

Getting hold of her own mouth again, she kept him at bay long enough to reluctantly make her argument. “It’s going to be an issue with your company,” she said sadly. Part of her knew that she was making excuses to avoid jumping into this terrifying unknown, and yet she wasn’t able to help herself.

He smiled. “No, it won’t be,” Jaime answered, capturing her lips once more. How she wished it to be true.

She pulled away. “Yes, it is. I’m likely to write about it again in the future, if only for a follow-up, and this... would be conflict of interest.”

Pressing his forehead to hers, eyes closed, he had a grin half victorious, half relieved. As if he had been happily waiting for that objection.

“Tyrion and his associate bought all of my shares,” he said softly. “I will be managing the foundation, which is not directly linked to Casterly. So I have no financial interest in this anymore,” he explained. “There’s no conflict.”

Brienne stared at him, stunned. 

He had known. What she would argue, what would be an obstacle. He had spent three years redressing a company that had been on the brim of collapse due to the scandal and the structure decay the corruption had enabled, doing nothing else. Reorganizing jobs, reestablishing trade deals, building back trust with investors, redirecting the whole organization towards better practices.

And he was walking away?

He kissed her deeply, embracing her completely, flooding her senses. His fingers wiped away her tears like they had done back on Tarth, before pulling her into a tight hug, burying his face in her neck. For what felt like the longest time, she just held onto his warmth, his strength and affection, and he to hers.

“You’ve- all of that. Did you- for me?,” she almost laughed, apparently unable to string a coherent sentence together.

Jaime pressed his lips to her skin, any skin he could reach. “Tyrion has a much better hand at business than I do.” Tracing her jaw, he continued. “I will be otherwise occupied, anyway, managing estates at Casterly Rock. And perhaps, eventually,” he finished with a hoarser voice, “helping with yours on Tarth.”

A frown creased on her brow. “What makes you think I need your help?”

His meaning had been clear, and he knew her game, playing along. “I’m not saying you would need it, merely that I would offer it,” and Brienne knew they weren’t quite talking about estates anymore. His gaze was burning as brightly as the fire in her belly, and when he claimed her mouth again, she fought back for control, guiding him to the bedroom. 

It was a perfect ballet of strength, as they both wrestled and wrangled and gave way to one another. He pressed her against the wall as she shrugged off her shirt, pulling on his and pushing him on the bed, laughing, as they immediately tangled themselves together again. He took every second he could to know her body, with all the senses she would allow before urging him on, demanding release, demanding him.

He brought her to near orgasm with his mouth and hands alone, in agonizingly slow caresses, until she almost shouted her order to bring it to a close. His kiss tasted of her as he pressed himself against her body, wanting, asking breathlessly if she truly wanted him.

At first Brienne thought it was the stupidest question she had ever heard, especially in that moment; then the realization came that Jaime needed her to want him despite everything she knew. There was but a fleeting doubt, a flicker that was swallowed instantly. Pulling his face to hers, she wrapped her legs around him, urging him to her. “Yes. Jaime,” she whispered, staring into his eyes, moaning as he finally entered her.

He was spent quickly, shaking and muttering tenderly in her arms, but not before he had brought her to her peak. He allowed himself to recover atop of her for a moment, his face against her breast, as she stroke his hair and neck distractedly. Propping himself up on his elbows, he looked at her with a frown, apparently struggling to formulate his thought.  
  
"I didn't- we didn't- protection?," he managed to utter, concerned.  
  
"I'm already taking birth control," she assured him, and she saw both the question that crossed his mind, and his decision not to voice it. Fair enough. That was a discussion that could wait for another time. Jaime lowered himself back to her, an ear to her chest, listening to her heart and breathing slowly returning to normal.

The press was going to have a field day with this, Brienne thought as she drifted off.

It was only when she properly awoke the next morning, now nestled against his side, tangled in the bedsheet, that the short moments of lucidity throughout the night stopped feeling like dreams. He really was there, breathing evenly, an arm around her shoulder. It was hard to believe still, that after all that time and all those hardships, for both of them, she could still have that.

She sighed contentedly. Feeling so relaxed made her smile. Marge had been right: she  _ had _ needed to get laid. Although, perhaps not with just anyone. It was still an odd sight, her strong, freckled hand on his chest, and she brushed away the thought that it might not have had any right to be there. The hair had started greying there as well, Brienne noted, stroking his skin absent-mindedly.

“Does it bother you?” Jaime’s voice was a bit hoarse with sleep still. 

“What, the hair? No. You can keep it,” she added with a grin. “I won’t force you to wax it.” His chest shook with laughter.

“I’m just thinking, there’s a significant... age gap between us. I’m not...” He seemed to consider his words. “You know I’m not looking for a fling. And you’re still - you’ve still got time to... look around,” he continued hesitantly. “I’m more ready to... settle down.”

She pulled away and looked up at him with an eyebrow raised. “Look around? Really.” He shrugged.

“You said there was that guy at work...” She gave him a look. “I’m just saying, Brienne, I’m taking this seriously. I’d just like us to be on the same page.” He had a hand on the small of her back, stroking the skin there, sending shivers through her spine. They were on the same page on that point.

Reaching for the covers, she pulled them properly over them before resettling against Jaime with a sigh. “I sincerely don’t think that’s going to be an issue.” He hummed softly in response.

They enjoyed the silence and the comfortable warmth for some time before a question rose to her mind, then to her lips.

“What happened with General Targaryen?”

He took a deep breath, and she hoped that she hadn’t killed the moment. They had had that honesty policy during their fake relationship, but she had never dared ask. 

She could hear that he tried to soften his tone when he answered, but there was still a lot of anger. “He liked to make people burn.” Brienne understood the implications of it, the horror that he would have been forced to witness and be complicit to, in some way. She knew better than to further the topic, and simply snuggled closer with a nod.

They stayed quiet for a while, until Jaime shifted away, pushing her on her back with a deep kiss. His hands roamed on her sides, making her smile against his lips. He watched her for a moment, and she wondered what he saw. The broken nose, the wide mouth? The freckles painting every inch of her skin? He kissed her again, then looked down further, as if he’d read her thoughts.

“So they’re like... everywhere?” She laughed, trying to cover herself with the sheet as he protested. “No, no, I want to see! It was dark last night, I’ve been wondering for years!” He tried to wrestle it from her, a game that quickly turned into another make out session.

He finally settled, nuzzling her shoulder as she stroked his hair. Barely a minute passed before he spoke up again. “Will you marry me?”

Brienne laughed, both out of amusement and of elation. “Isn’t that a bit premature?”

“Is it? We were engaged for six months and I never actually asked you. I should have done it three years ago.”

“No.” She remembered their last days together on Tarth. “It wasn’t the right time.”

“Is it now?” Jaime raised his head, and they exchanged a look. She badly wanted to say yes, and to have a fairy tale happy ending, but saner heads prevailed. Whatever they had three years prior was a long time passed, and they would have to get to know each other again, and in other ways, before they could build on it.

She caressed his jaw with a smile. “We’ll see. What are you going to do about that beard situation, anyway?”

He grinned. “You don’t like it? I thought it would be softer on your thighs.” It took her a second to understand his meaning as she squinted at him, at which point she gave him an outraged look. He tried to kiss her again, laughing, but she pulled away, trying to escape the bed.

“You  _ liked  _ it!” He protested, catching her sitting on the edge and pressing himself against her back. “Beard or no beard, you liked it,” he growled in her ear, sliding his hands on her belly. She could feel where this was going, literally, against the small of her back.

“ _ You _ liked it,” Brienne half-moaned, leaning back against him as he slipped a hand between her thighs. He hummed appreciatively as he kissed her neck.

“I  _ did _ like it,” he sursurred. “Marry me,” he pleaded again, as if he could distract her enough to obtain the answer he wanted. She pulled away, standing just out of reach, turning back to face him as he kneeled on the bed. He looked up at her, green eyes shining with longing.

“Two months,” she began.

“And then we get married,” Jaime cut off. Almost worse than a child. His gaze roamed over her naked body, making her feel self-conscious.

“And then you can ask again,” she finished. “Maybe you’ll be bored with me within two weeks!” She reached for clothes to cover herself, and she was surprised that he let her.

“I spent six months with you and I was in love before the end of it, so, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.” She put on her shirt without responding or looking at him. He was presenting her with a reflection of herself that Brienne couldn’t quite believe.

She felt his hands pulling her back to him, falling on his lap; he embraced her, and his breath warmed the skin between her shoulder blades through the fabric. “I know you,” he simply said. “I  _ missed _ you.” He held her closer, close enough that she thought she could feel his heartbeat.

That was a sentiment that she echoed. The playful banter that had settled between them before she heard of her father’s illness. The shared looks when an annoying guest would drone on about an uninteresting subject. The silent watching of movies when Jaime was in a sour mood. It was only when it had ended that she had realized how much she had enjoyed his company.

“Let me be your partner again,” he asked. 

Turning sideways on his lap, she looked at him pointedly. “On what project? Casterly is supposed to be clean.”

“Actually, there’s a competitor that I suspect is up to no good,” he smirked, amused at her mocking glare. “Us,” he replied with more seriousness. “Maybe this,“ - he gestured from their unclothed selves to the bed sheet in disarray - “was a bit too fast. Maybe we should go back to hating each other’s guts for a start, and see if that leads us to the same conclusion.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning against his shoulder. “I don't think I can hate you again,” she wondered aloud.

“We’ll go for the next best thing then - “

“Getting married?” The startled and hopeful look he gave her made Brienne feel guilty. “No,” she warned, earning a pout. 

“Then I will be incredibly annoying, like at the beginning,” Jaime countered, adding as an afterthought, “ _ wench. _ ” He  _ had  _ missed that eye roll. Taking a good hold of her, he swung them both backwards to the bed, wrapping his legs around hers to stop her from getting back up. Shifting closer, he pressed a kiss to her lips. “And then maybe you'll fall in love with me, too.”

She stared back, and he wished a photograph could ever capture the tender look in her fantastic blue eyes. “Again,” she completed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it :D I'm glad I'm done with it *pets*


End file.
